It's All Greek to Me
by caribou.and.cake
Summary: Ichigo's life is hard enough as it is, but what he thought was a one-night stand brings about more complications. Specifically a frustratingly attractive blue-haired crazed blackmailer telling him that he's a Greek demigod, and Ichigo is too. AU,Yaoi
1. In Which There is a Sex God

**Note: **Smut makes up the latter half of this chapter, if it's not your thing then avert your eyes.

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><p><strong>It's All Greek to Me<strong>

**κεφάλαιο ενός:**

**In Which There is a Sex God**

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><p><em>I have never with these eyes seen anything like you.<em>

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><p>It all started in late August, the twenty-eighth to be exact. One week before the start of the fall semester at Karakura University to be even more exact. Now, if this were your typical romance story, this paragraph would go onto explain how the day was absolutely perfect , sun shining, birds chirping, and not a cloud in the sky. Something like that, right?<p>

Well, that day for Ichigo Kurosaki had been far, far from perfect and what's funny is that the sun _was _shining, the birds _were _chirping, and there were indeed no clouds in the sky.

Again, if this were your typical romance story, and the day had not been perfect, then it would have been positively awful, right? Ichigo would have gone through all the regular trials and tribulations of being a sophomore university student. But, again, that wasn't the case, though he had stubbed his toe on the way to make coffee that morning...

Yes, Ichigo Kurosaki had a completely, positively, and absolutely typical, average, and undeniably boring day. It just couldn't get any more mundane, like people with OCD were probably jealous of how his day had stuck so completely to routine. Anyway, you get it, right?

Well this was all true up until Ichigo walked back into his apartment at precisely 5:48 p.m, just like he did everyday, because it took him eighteen minutes to walk home from his job as a server at an American-retro-style diner after he got off of his shift at five-thirty.

Now it wasn't that Ichigo was exactly _against_surprises. In fact, he was one of the few people that actually enjoyed them, but, you see, the past summer had passed by at a pace that was so totally comatose, meaning a great lack of surprises, that he was completely unprepared for what awaited him when he opened the door to his apartment.

He wondered if there was some kind of protocol that one should follow when faced with this kind of situation, being his two male and very straight roommates standing in the living room, in their boxer shorts and tight white briefs respectively, and wrapping each other in their bedsheets.

But since he didn't know that protocol, Ichigo settled for letting his keys slide from his hand and drop onto the tile with a loud _clang_.

Renji and Shuuhei both looked up from where the former had been adjusting the white sheet on the latter's shoulder but they almost immediately went back to what they were doing upon seeing their roommate looking at them in complete and utter confusion.

"Hey Ichigo," Shuuhei muttered half-heartedly. "No, it looked better before," he said to the redhead who had hiked up the sheet too far up on his shoulder, tugging it down so that it...looked better?

"Uh, hey..." Ichigo trailed off, scooping his keys off of the tiled floor and moving to the left to walk into the small kitchen in their apartment. He set his customary bag of complementary french fries from the diner onto the counter, slightly shaking his head before ripping the brown paper bag open and stuffing several of them into his mouth. Don't judge him though, he was _hungry_after being on his feet for several hours watching other people eat food.

"So are you going tonight, Ichigo?" Renji called to him as he tucked the corner of his sheet into the waistband of his boxers.

"Going?" Ichigo rose one orange eyebrow. He didn't _go _anywhere, he just ate french fries until six o'clock when he turned on the news and then watched prime time TV sitcoms until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and he finally passed out, either on the couch or, if he had enough strength to walk to it, his bed. "To what?"

Both of his roommates looked up to him with raised brows at that, meeting each other's gazes and then flickering back to him with identical baffled frowns.

"To the Kappa Alpha Lambda house..." Shuuhei said slowly, as if Ichigo were an idiot, which he most certainly was _not_and so he didn't really appreciate being treated like one.

What the hell was Captain Alpha's Llama House anyway? Some kind of nightclub or something?

Already in a foul mood from being spoken to like he was a simpleton, Ichigo frowned heavily.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?" he asked sarcastically through a mouthful of fries, leaning against the counter. He wondered for a second if there was any orange soda left in the refrigerator even with Renji's unbearable habit of downing the stuff like it was going out of style.

Again, his two roommates looked at each other, something akin to pity in their eyes as Shuuhei sighed heavily, looking like he was about to take on the task of a lifetime. Ichigo mentally rolled his eyes as he bit through another french fry rather viciously.

"It's the biggest fraternity house on KU's campus. They're having a party tonight, like they do before every semester..." Shuuhei trailed off, obviously expecting Ichigo to slap his own forehead in disbelief at his own stupidity, because _how _could he have forgotten that _that_ was _tonight_?

"Yeah, doesn't really ring a bell," Ichigo shrugged, chuckling a little bit to himself on the inside. It wasn't that he didn't like Renji and Shuuhei, they were pretty nice guys, a little thick, but nice. And pretty quiet roommates too, which is just about all Ichigo could ever ask for in this world. It was just that he felt as if he and them were just on...divergent paths. They just didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things.

"Oh," Shuuhei raised an eyebrow at that, looking a little put out that Ichigo hadn't face-palmed the hell out of himself. "Well...do you wanna come anyway?" he asked a little unsurely, like he didn't really know if he should be asking the orangette to go to a party. Ichigo couldn't blame him for that, he certainly hadn't made himself out to be a party animal the past two months he had been living in the apartment with the brunette and redhead. And that was simply because he wasn't. In fact, he really didn't like parties, let alone fraternity ones. All of those jello shots and skanky girls flashing their tits and beer pong and party-goers stripping down in the kitchen play slip n' slide with Murphy's Oil on the tile. Okay, well that last one sounded like fun, but the point was that Ichigo just did _not _go to frat parties.

"Nah, I'm good," he said absentmindedly, turning to the refrigerator and opening it to find that Renji had indeed drank _all_of the orange soda.

It was now official. The gods hated him.

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><p>An hour later, Ichigo's roommates had both left, because they had been invited to help set up for that frat party and he had finally gotten comfortable on the lumpy couch in front of the plasma TV that had been one of the few reasons he had decided to move into the apartment. It was kind of an awkward position, with his legs hanging over the armrest while he propped his head up with his crooked arm.<p>

Then his cell phone rang.

As he struggled to sit up, he mentally cursed at himself for ever thinking that setting his ring to the highest volume was a good idea. Spinning his lower body so that he could sit up straight and reach for his phone on the coffee table, he flipped it open, answering it automatically with a monotone "Yeah?"

"Hello there, Ichigo. Would you like to tell me why you aren't in the photo lab developing film for next week's issue?"

Ichigo shuddered as the deathly calm voice sounded through the the speaker of his phone. It made his blood run cold as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Rukia Kuchiki was undeniably the best school paper editor there was, but she was also undeniably _terrifying_.

"I, uh, well I..." Ichigo trailed off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and reflexively closing his eyes, cringing from what he knew was going to come.

"You know, Ichigo, for once I'm actually grateful for your procrastination," Rukia sighed heavily and Ichigo could just picture her reclining in some office chair somewhere, spinning around to face a giant window with a great big view of the city as she stroked a pet rabbit in her lap and plotted her evil plan to take over the entire city of Karakura, and he had just been roped into it somehow.

"Uh...really?"

"Yes, because Izuru has finally come up with a sufficient article to run in the paper next week, and _you're _going to shoot the pictures for it, got it?" Rukia's voice was serene, but Ichigo could just hear the sadistic, murderous intent behind it. He can remember the first time he ever heard it, when he first applied to be the one of Karakura University's school paper's photojournalists, and he had nearly shit his pants. The girl might not even clear five feet and probably couldn't ride most of the big kid rides at amusement parks, but she was downright scary.

"Great!" Ichigo squeaked (masculinely, of course) and stood up from his couch, intent on finding his camera, because he couldn't actually remember where he had put it...

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Rukia deadpanned and it was almost like Ichigo could hear her rolling her eyes and resting a hand on her forehead in disappointed disbelief.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he cleared his throat. "I mean, yes," he answered more firmly, walking around the coffee table. He knew his backpack was around there somewhere...

"Well, if you can believe it, Izuru actually came up with something that was acceptable to be published on the front page," she started and Ichigo "mhmm-ed" for her to continue. "Anyway, he came up with the idea to write an article on the devastating effects of fraternity parties. Alcohol-related deaths, date rape, hazing, you know, the works."

Ichigo wrinkled his nose, but didn't say anything as he had a feeling that Rukia wasn't finished yet.

"So I'm sure you've heard that the infamous Kappa Alpha Lambda fraternity is having their annual back-to-school party shindig or whatever, and I need you to go down there and take pictures of all the naughty things they have going on down there, got it?"

Ichigo shot straight up from where he had been bent over in his pile of dirty laundry, which he had been rifling through, trying to find his camera.

"Wait," he blurted out, barely thinking. "You want me to go to that..._party_? And take _pictures_?" Almost immediately after those words came out of his mouth, he regretted them and his eyes widened at what he had just done.

Questioning Rukia = a merciless and prolonged gory death that would put any Saw movie to shame.

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><p>Another hour later and Ichigo's head was still ringing. If he could have offered up his soul in order to go back in time and take back his words to Rukia, he would. Oh, and he would probably ask if he could also get out of going to this ridiculous...<em>thing<em>, which couldn't be an unreasonable request if he was giving up his soul and going to spend an eternity in the fiery pits of the underworld or whatever.

He was standing on the front lawn of the Kappa Alpha Lambda house, looking totally and completely out of place and twirling the gold ring that had been his mother's around his finger absentmindedly. He would have never guessed that Renji and Shuuhei dressing up in their bedsheets to go to a party was an uncommon thing if he hadn't come here that night, but you learn something new everyday, right?

The KAL house was bigger than most of the mansions in Karakura's upper east side, perfectly white with the blue Greek letters ΚΆΛ (for Kappa Alpha Lambda) hung over the double-door entrance, and what Ichigo thought was a golden apple beneath the letters, but he couldn't really tell since it was already dark outside.

Music was positively blaring from inside the gigantic house, Ichigo could feel the bass underneath his feet and he was standing on the far end of the lawn, which had its fair number of guests as well. He thought he could see a couple intertwined in a tree not too far to his right, making him frown in mild disgust. Honestly, couldn't people at least do that inside? Even if it was someone else's house...

Anyway, back to how Ichigo was totally and completely out of place, besides his lack of makeshift bed sheet clothing, was that he was a) alone, b) holding a rather large film camera in his hands, and c) not holding the infamous red plastic cup that seemed to be a customary staple of these types of get-togethers. You would think that the plastic company didn't make them in any other color, and that's not true because one time when Ichigo had been five he had had a Halloween party in school and they had had black and orange cups, so...yeah.

"Ichigo?"

Barely registering that someone had called his name, he swiveled his head to see a girl about his age (that being nineteen years, one month and thirteen days) with long auburn hair and big eyes like storm clouds. She was dressed, surprisingly, normally just like him, but it looked like she had tried to put a little effort in and had a white sheet wrapped around her upper body, denim covered legs peeking out from under the cloth.

"Oh, hey Orihime," he greeted, smiling a little because he actually was relieved to see at least one person he knew in this entire place.

"Hi," she offered a little awkwardly, shifting a bit from foot to foot as he drummed her fingernails on the cup she was holding.

Orihime Inoue was a nice girl, not really a friend, more like an acquaintance. She had been in his freshman composition class last year and she was a pretty good essay editor if he remembered correctly.

"So, I didn't know you would be here. I didn't think you were the party type," she started, but then her eyes widened and she closed her mouth abruptly before opening it again. "No, I mean that, um, I just don't see...you...at them...a lot?" Orihime grinned sheepishly, brushing a lock of her burnt sienna hair behind her ear.

"It's okay, I'm just here to take pictures," Ichigo answered with a somewhat warm smile, gesturing towards the camera that was hanging off of a strap around his neck.

"Pictures?" she questioned, titling her head to the side.

"Yeah, the school paper's running an article on how fraternity parties are," Ichigo paused. It would probably not be a good idea if anyone here knew that he was here to take some incriminating photos of the party and the people in it. He had seen what those frat boys had done to some of the students around campus, and they supposedly _liked _them.

Now don't get him wrong, he wasn't a coward and he certainly wasn't afraid of a few egotistical fraternity tools, but he really didn't feel like getting saran-wrapped to a pole in only his underwear that night.

"How they're what?" Orihime pressed, looking genuinely interested. For a second, Ichigo debated just telling her anyway, since he really didn't see her mingling with members of Kappa Alpha Lambda anyway, but just to be on the safe side...

"How they're...awesome?"

"Oh," Orihime visibly brightened, her storm gray eyes crinkling a little bit as she smiled up at him. "Ulqui will be glad to hear that, he's always saying that people don't really understand KAL! People think that they just party all the time, but that's not true because they have to maintain a 3.0 GPA to even stay in the house," she raised a finger in the air to punctuate before her eyes got impossibly wide and Ichigo could have sworn that a light bulb flickered on over her head. You just couldn't see it because it flickered away almost instantly as she shot forward to grab his wrist.

"You should come and meet him! You can interview him for the article!" she exclaimed, tugging his arm, making Ichigo reluctantly stumble behind her. She dragged him along the lawn, but not to the front doors but around the house, past the garage and to where a very large swimming pool and even more people dressed in bedsheets were loitering around. There were a few people crowded near the deck, which was utterly _decked out _with multi-colored lights in the shape of chili peppers and a table set up with a seemingly endless supply of stacked cups that were firetruck engine, you guessed it, red.

There was also a keg set up by that table and several young men were huddled around it, two of them holding a girl up upside down as she chugged beer straight from it at an alarmingly fast rate while the men egged her on, chanting her name.

But, Ichigo shouldn't be focusing on that. He _should _be focusing on stopping the inevitable social disaster that would occur if the girl that was tugging him along introduced him to "Ulqui".

"Uh, Orihime, I don't think that-" but Ichigo never finished that sentence.

Now, let's revisit that whole "this is not a typical romance story" theory. It still isn't, but this is where the storyline dips into the utterly cliche plot point that would be how our hero first sees the wet dream of a boy that is unavoidably going to turn into one of the main characters of this story.

The reason Ichigo first paused was because he heard the distinctive "rrr-ing" noise of an engine, and really why would he hear that in the backyard of a fraternity house? His head snapped to where the sound was coming from and immediately knew. Oh, _that's _why.

As he turned, he saw the motorcycle's lights flash once and almost everyone in the vicinity cheered loudly. Ichigo didn't even have time to process his many questions at the sight, like why was there a motorcycle in the backyard and why was it flashing its lights and, most importantly, _who _was on that bike, before the cyclist revved the engine once and then took off, tearing down the lawn at breakneck speed.

Ichigo's eyes followed in stunned amazement as the motorcycle and its rider drove across the grass, leaving a trail of ruined lawn in their wake, and then picked up speed right before hitting what looked to be a rather unstable wooden skateboard ramp. The sleek bike peaked over the edge of the ramp and it was airborne for several long moments, in which Ichigo's jaw dropped, until it finally came down with a great splash into the swimming pool, spraying water everywhere.

For a few seconds everyone was quiet as the water stilled and the quiet purring of an engine was muffled, but then something broke the surface, tanned arms reaching up to pull the helmet off to reveal a head full of robin's egg blue hair and a man grinning triumphantly. Then applause erupted from seemingly everywhere at once, even Orihime let go of Ichigo's arm to clap.

Hordes of people swarmed the swimming pool then, blocking it from Ichigo's view and for a second he was disappointed. He really had wanted to get a closer look at the cyclist who had just pulled that insanely stupid (but undeniably awesome) stunt. He couldn't remember ever seeing someone around campus with that hair color before.

"He's such a show-off," Orihime shook her head, smiling softly, and then turned back to look at Ichigo, whose mouth was still open, in fact it wouldn't be surprising if it was permanently stuck that way, or if his jaw fell off, like that girl in the Grudge. "Oh, right! Ulqui should be over here, somewhere..." she trailed off, grabbing a hold of his arm yet again, pulling him towards the deck.

Wait...there was something Ichigo was in the middle of saying...oh, right, social disaster and all that. Not to mention the possible catastrophe that might happen if anyone from the fraternity found out just exactly what he was doing. But before he could say another word on the matter, Orihime had already led him up the stairs of the deck and was now beckoning towards someone over by the table. It was too late. He was doomed. He would be saran-wrapped to a pole in his underwear and then Rukia was going to kill him for not getting the pictures and then she would put his corpse back on the pole for everyone to point and laugh at.

"Orihime, who is this?" a cold, monotone voice cut through his thoughts like a razor blade. Ichigo blinked for a few seconds, because surely _this _couldn't be the "Ulqui" he had heard Orihime rave about so many times. The Ulqui that was "so nice and sweet" and was the Student President of Kappa Alpha Lambda _and _the Karakura University Chapter of the National Honor Society.

The youth who stood before him was about his height, with dark, shaggy hair that fell to his shoulders. His skin was so pale it was positively glowing under the fluorescent lights coming from the house and the string chili pepper lights and he had large, vacant eyes that were emerald in color. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and one of those sweater vest that were supposedly "in" at the moment, so he was also bed sheet-less.

It also didn't escape Ichigo's notice that those green eyes were trained on where Orihime was still holding onto his arm and he really, really wished she would let go. Or that "Ulqui" would know that he, Ichigo Kurosaki, was one hundred and ten percent completely and totally gay. Yep, no tits or pussy for him, so you know...he wasn't trying to steal the guy's girlfriend or whatever. But that's not the kind of stuff you just blurt out when you've just met someone, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Oh, this is Ichigo. He's writing an article for the school paper about this party," Orihime let Ichigo's arm drop back to his side and sidled over to stand beside the dark-haired man.

"Is that so?" he rose an eye brow, but then stuck out his hand "Ulquiorra Cifer." Ichigo must have stared at the pale hand for several seconds before giving a slight shake of his head and grasping it in his own, pumping it up and down.

What kind of college student shakes other people's hands?

"Ichigo Kurosaki," he said in the same firm tone as the other man did. You know the one, the "I'm a man and I'm going to greet you in my manly man way and squeeze the life out of your hand until you beg for mercy" tone.

They both released each other's hands at the same time and Orihime beamed up at Ulquiorra like she was proud of him for some reason.

"May I ask what this article Orihime spoke of is exactly about?" he questioned.

"Well, actually, I don't write, I just-" but before Ichigo could finish telling Ulquiorra that all he did was take pictures to accompany the article that someone else was writing, he was forcibly shut up by being knocked to the ground by something rather hard.

Landing on the ground with a soft "oof" and smacking his head on the wood flooring of the deck since he had wrapped his hands around his camera to protect it at the last second, because it actually didn't belong to him but to the school, he heard someone swear lowly behind him.

"Ah, shit, sorry kid," a deep voice sounded and Ichigo scowled as he sat up, rubbing his forehead, which was now red and very sore. Slightly shaking his head to get rid of the blurred vision his eyes made out a hand in front of his face, attached to an outstretched arm and..._holy shit_...

So, this was the cyclist that had jumped his bike into the pool. Who else could have the exact same shade of robin's egg blue hair? And if Ichigo had thought that _that _was eye-catching, then the rest of him was positively melting his brain.

That unusual hair, still wet from his earlier dip in the pool, framed the face of an angel just like a halo would. Angular jaw, sharp and perfect cheekbones, full, Cupid's bow-shaped lips, and eyes so heartbreakingly blue, Ichigo could have sworn that his heart was now lying on the floor in a million pieces just looking at them. He was a piece of art.

Numbly, Ichigo placed his hand into the one before him, feeling the surprisingly soft, warm and tawny skin underneath his fingertips as the blue-haired male heaved him onto his feet in own swift motion, making the orangette's stomach drop.

Now that he was standing, Ichigo could make out the fact that the other man easily had at least five inches on him, a whole head taller, and with broad shoulders and toned arms that he could see all of considering the soaked white bed-sheet that the blunette was wearing left very little to the imagination. Why did he ever think that wearing bedsheets was a bad thing...?

Of course, now he finally knew why everyone was wearing them and Ichigo was amazed at his own density.

_It was a toga party.  
><em>  
>Though he didn't mind having to see a half-naked sex god with one on to make him realize that fact.<p>

"Hey, are you okay?" Sex God asked, waving his hand in front of Ichigo's face, whom immediately felt warmth pooling in his cheeks as he realized he had been staring...and still holding the guy's hand.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just...hit my head a little," he recovered rather lamely, ripping his hand away and using it to lay a palm against his forehead, which was now exceedingly hot since his body temperature was raising at an alarming rate.

"Sorry about that," the blunette grinned, revealing sharper than average, whiter than white teeth. "Let me make it up to you," he asserted, bowing forward a little so Ichigo got the full, hypnotizing effect of his sapphires for his eyes.

"Oh, do you two know each other?" piped an annoying voice from their right and Ichigo immediately turned to glare at the person, but Orihime Inoue was one of the very few people who was impervious to his infamous death glare.

"No," the blue-haired sex god answered simply, his megawatt grin never faltering. Ichigo tried to calm his heart that was faltering at the mere sight of that grin, but it wasn't working and now his head was feeling kind of funny. He had never had such a visceral reaction to any guy before. Okay, well maybe a few in those mangas that he pretended not to read where almost every male was drool-worthy, but never anyone in _real life_.

"So, what's your name?" Sex God questioned, his voice husky and deep, like something straight from a romance novel. It took Ichigo a few seconds to realize that he was posing the question to him.

"It's Ichigo," he said in what he hoped was a confident way. Confidence was sexy, right? Though Ichigo had no idea why he should even care considering the fact that Sex God was probably straight as an arrow. Cue the sigh of despair...

Yes, he shouldn't care and he should walk away right now and never look back. Fuck the pictures Rukia wanted, he wasn't about to make a fool out of himself drooling over a straight guy.

"_Ichigo_," Sex God positively purred, Ichigo's name rolling off of his tongue like it was a foreign language,because Ichigo had certainly never heard it pronounced like that before. "Want something to drink?" The way he said it, it sounded more like a statement rather than a question.

"Sure," Ichigo said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. Okay, so screw what he had said earlier about running away and never looking back. No one that beautiful could be _completely _straight and besides, the way Ichigo's ass looked in his new jeans could very well just make about anyone switch teams, and it's **not **bragging if it's true.

"Kurosaki."

It was Ulquiorra and even though Ichigo had only just met the guy, he already hated him. However, when he made to turn around, there was suddenly a delightful weight on his shoulders and with a rush of bliss, Ichigo realized that Sex God had just put his arm around him, and he could _feel _the man's body heat through his thin cotton t-shirt.

"You can talk to him later, Ulquiorra. He's mine for now," Sex God called over his shoulder as he steered Ichigo through the throng of people on the deck and into the kitchen of the house, where he was mildly surprised to see a game of slip n' slide actually happening.

_He's mine.  
><em>  
>Oh yeah, Ichigo could officially die a happy man.<p>

"So, are you rushing this year?"

Looking up into Sex God's sapphire eyes, he gave the gorgeous man a smirk of his own.

"I'm a sophomore," he stated with a hint of pride, though technically that wouldn't be officially true until the start of next term the next week. One thin blue eyebrow on Sex God's face twitched on his forehead.

"Really?"

Ichigo nodded.

"Then how come I've never seen you on campus before?"

Ichigo just shrugged, noticing how those bluer than blue eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement. Oh yeah, playing coy and confident was definitely the way to go. Usually Ichigo didn't really make much of an effort when it came to guys he thought were attractive, mostly because he didn't want to make a fool out of himself, but then again he didn't have too much experience in that field anyway.

They soon passed the slip n' sliders and reached the counter of the kitchen where the customary Pabst cooler was set up beside the refrigerator. Sex God took his arm off of Ichigo and reached into it to retrieve a blue and white PBR beer can and offered it to the orangette silently.

"Oh, I don't drink alcohol," Ichigo said quietly, feeling like a total loser. Seriously, just slap a huge red "L" on his forehead right there and be done with it.

"Oh yeah?" Sex God asked and Ichigo felt himself flush and mentally willed for the red tinge that he knew was apparent on his face to go away. "Well you're lucky then, we usually don't give this out at parties," he smiled, a full, real one and its devastating effects were not lost on Ichigo. "But for you, I'll make an exception."

"Hmm...so I'm special then?" Ichigo leaned on the counter beside the cooler and hoped he looked indifferently casual.

"You bet," Sex God's voice dropped an octave and then he winked before opening the refrigerator door. Now usually when people winked, it came off as cheesy or pervy, but not when the Sex God did it...not at all.

"Then I'm wondering what makes me so special," Ichigo pondered aloud in a thoughtful, playful tone. He watched as the blunette reappeared from behind the refrigerator door, holding an amber tinted wine bottle in his left hand as he closed the door with his right.

"Well, let's just say that you're a..." Sex God paused for a second, taking two red plastic cups from a stack of them on the kitchen island and setting them right side up. Then he uncorked the amber wine bottle, which now Ichigo knew surely didn't hold any wine, because the liquid that the fine male specimen across from him poured into the cups was a sparkling gold. Seriously, it glinted almost like pure gold as the overhead light caught it at just the right angle and Ichigo was getting thirsty just looking at it.

"That I'm a what?"

Sex God handed over one of the plastic cups and Ichigo could smell the drink's intoxicatingly sweet scent before he raised it to his lips. The blunette did the same.

"That you, Ichigo, are a rare find."

As they both took a long sip from their cups and Ichigo found himself staring into eternally blue eyes, he found himself thinking that Mr. Sex God was definitely not _completely _straight.

* * *

><p>Remember how it has been stated this is not your typical romance story? If you don't, then you probably haven't been paying much attention, but no matter, because the only part that you really need to know that is now.<p>

You see, usually in romantic stories, a boy woos the object of his affection for weeks, months, even years, earning their trust and love. They probably stare deep into each other's eyes and confess their feelings for hours before finally taking the next step in their relationship and making passionate love, and of course everything goes perfectly.

Now, you cannot make passionate love to someone you met not even an hour ago, you fuck them. And nothing is guaranteed.

Ichigo still is not exactly sure how it all happened, but one moment he realized he had finished his drink and then he had met Sex God's eyes from across the kitchen and...well, _something _happened. It went unspoken and yet it seemed to be understood immediately by the both of them, as they nearly devoured each other with hungry eyes. Ichigo could swear that static electricity flowed between them as the Sex God stalked over to him, powerful, graceful, predatory and whispered in his ear "My room" and took his hand in his slightly bigger one.

He wasn't really sure what he was doing as he let Sex God lead him from the kitchen and through the hall and up a flight of stairs, but he _was _sure that he didn't really care.

Ichigo wanted that blue-haired sex god, needed him so badly that he felt like he might burst out of his skin with desire, and no, he was not being dramatic, thank you very much.

No one paid them much mind as they stormed through the crowds of people dressed up in bed-sheet togas (none of them having the body to pull it off like Sex God, though) and Ichigo briefly recognized that if the man that was now leading him to _his _room in the house, then that must mean that was a member of Kappa Alpha Lambda.

Sex God threw open the third door on the left and nearly threw Ichigo in there too, slamming the door shut behind them. The music could still be heard through the door and the muffled voices of the people downstairs, but suddenly it was like no one else in the world existed to Ichigo except for the man before him. Yeah, cliche...but true.

Ichigo backed up against the door and Sex God smirked, his eyes nearly glowing in the dark of the room, the only light coming from the crack underneath the door. He placed his hands on either side of Ichigo's head and the orangette felt his poor heart stutter and falter as those phosphorescent eyes locked on his. He felt trapped, but in a deliciously good way.

Heat blossomed all over his skin as Sex God slowly crept in closer, his scent of something minty and undeniably masculine washing over Ichigo like a sensual wave. He should have felt tense that practically a stranger was so close to him, but instead it felt like all of his bones had been replaced with jelly. And then...

And then Sex God's perfect, Cupid's bow shaped lips met his in a rough, demanding kiss. It was all passion, no affection to speak of, and it was amazing. Ichigo moaned a little in the back of his throat as those lips slid over his and the hands that had been beside his head dropped down capture his hips, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. Seriously, best kiss _ever_.

Ichigo could taste the sweet drink still on Sex God's tongue as it claimed his mouth, that pink muscle making its way into his moist cavern, mapping every bit of his own tongue and teeth. The taste only made him want more, much more.

Hands slipped under his t-shirt and Ichigo shivered involuntarily as heated skin came into contact with his own. Sex God's hands ghosted across the flat planes of his abdomen, tracing the faint outlines of his muscles. Ichigo's own hands rested on Sex God's upper arms, fingers curling into the firm and taut exposed skin.

Gasping for breath as they both finally pulled away at the same time, a strand of saliva still connected their now swollen lips that was somehow strangely erotic. Ichigo's eyes fluttered open to look straight into forever blue, and a slight smile crossed his face to which Sex God only replied with an even bigger one, his bright, white teeth contrasting with his tanned skin dazzling the orangette into stunned silence.

"Yeah, all mine," he pronounced, sliding one palm even further up Ichigo's skin and wrapping that arm to bring them flush together.

"Really?" Ichigo questioned both sarcastically and breathlessly, making Sex God chuckle and bring that hand that was resting on his lower back to pull at the strap that Ichigo had forgotten was around his neck.

"Yeah, really," he said lowly, pulling the camera off of Ichigo and setting it down on a what was probably dresser to their left that the smaller male had barely noticed. Then Sex God grinned and then leaned in to nuzzle the side of Ichigo's neck, the latter sighing as felt those perfect lips press against his pulse point. It was like he could feel that light touch all the way to his toes.

It briefly hit him that he didn't even know the blunette's name, let alone anything about him, but Ichigo forgot all about that as those lips that had been on his neck returned to his own. It felt like he could spend forever kissing the man in front of him and it would never be enough.

Ichigo could feel himself be turned around and being led somewhere, but he was far too busy thinking about how talented Sex God was with his tongue that he didn't even realize it until the hands that had been previously roaming his upper body lightly pushed him so that he fell back.

With a little startled cry, he landed on his back on something soft. He surmised that it must be the bed, even though he couldn't actually be sure since it was so dark in the room. As he heard the quiet, amused laughter of his companion, he scowled heavily, but it seemed that either the other ignored it or just didn't see it because the next second, a delicious weight had settled on top of Ichigo, pinning him to the bed.

He brought his hands up to tangle themselves in soft, robin's egg blue hair and he heard a pleased groan come from Sex God as he tugged on the strands a little bit, amused at the blunette's reaction. Above him, Ichigo could see when Sex God's eyes opened and he nearly lost all of his breath in that moment. He knows he's gone on and on about the man's eyes, but...he had never seen their equal in all his nineteen years of living.

His head was positively swimming as their lips met again, soft this time. Gentle, even, and Ichigo traced his way from the blue hair to the sharp cheekbones as he ran his thumbs across them.

Sex God's grasped the hem of Ichigo's shirt and yanked it up forcefully, exposing the orangette's chest to the balmy air of the dark room. His lips left Ichigo's, stealing a little of his breath with him, and trailed a line of barely there kisses from the side of Ichigo's mouth to his sensitive jawline to his neck and then finally onto his collarbone and even beyond there.

Ichigo let out a soft "oh" and let his head fall back to rest against the bed as Sex God's breath fanned against his right nipple and then a strangled moan as a large thumb and forefinger plucked the already taut, sensitive bud. It should've hurt, but it didn't, it felt incredibly good.

And then the fingers were gone and then Sex God's hot breath was there again, and then his tongue, laving at Ichigo's now tender dusky skin. Heat was pooling in Ichigo's groin and slight sweet ache had started in the base of his spine and the pit of his stomach. He was surprised he hadn't already burst out of his pants already with how hard he was.

But now Ichigo was absolutely furious that he was the only one exposed, so he grabbed the side's of the blue-haired man's head forcefully and yanked up, even though he really didn't want to.

"You too," he managed to get out through his incredibly dry throat and he thought he saw Sex God nod and then Ichigo's hands were positively ripping that ridiculous bed-sheet get-up to shreds, revealing a broad chest that he could manage to see even in the dark room and he had to hold back from groaning at just the sight of that delicious, bronzed skin. The guy really did have the body of a god.

He didn't even hesitate before practically attacking Sex God, pressing his lips to the heated, tanned flesh. Now, don't get Ichigo wrong, he definitely goes after what he likes, he's not shy, he's not a simpering little uke. But he's not a whore either, in fact he's a virgin.

Of course, though, if things kept going as they were, that might change soon. It was about time he lost it anyway.

He trailed further and further down Sex God's chest and abdomen, kneeling between his legs and even going so far as to dip his pink tongue into the innie, kind of cute bellybutton that was right above what he believed was called "the happy trail". And Ichigo was pleased to report that, from the looks of it, that beautiful blue hair was all natural.

Smiling a little to himself, Ichigo lowered his hands from where they had been gripping Sex God's waist and dipped them into the waistband of the dark blue boxer shorts that had been the only thing underneath that bed-sheet toga. A sharp intake of breath from somewhere above his head gave Ichigo the courage to go on, and he slowly, every so slowly, pulled that dark blue cloth down to reveal an already full erect and wet erection that bobbed to meet his surprised face.

He didn't know if he could fit all of that into his mouth.

Looking up to meet dark blue eyes that had simultaneously darkened and brightened with lust, a long tongue peeking out of that sinful mouth to lick those Cupid's bow lips. Sex God raised a brow as if to say "well?"

The blunette's cock was long and thick, nestle in a patch of thick, curly blue hair. If someone's dick could be beautiful, Ichigo would say that was this one right here that was.

Taking one hand off of one of Sex God's legs and tentatively wrapping it around the base of the erection, he was pleased to hear a breathy groan from above him. Slowly, he started to move his hand up and down, his thumb running over the head. It was like steel wrapped in hot satin and eventually when there was enough pre-come spilling from the slit to drip onto the bed beneath them, Ichigo stuck out his tongue and gave it one long lick.

He heard Sex God inhale sharply through his nose and Ichigo had to fight off a smile as he wrapped his mouth over the head of the generously sized cock before him.

The taste was undoubtedly surprising, not because Ichigo had never tasted another man before, because he had, but they had all tasted like salty skin, not bad, but not good either. But Sex God...he tasted _good_. Ichigo thought it must be a combination of his level of attractiveness and his own imagination, because he could almost swear that Sex God tasted like the drinks they had had earlier, the golden juice that had been better than any tea or juice or even orange soda he had ever had in his young life.

"Ah, fuck," Sex God breathed out above him and Ichigo took that as a sign to take him in even further. Relaxing his throat muscles like he had trained himself to do with his first boyfriend, Ichigo slipped even more of that hard and yet satiny cock into his mouth. "You're fucking good at this."

That made Ichigo chuckle and the vibrations from his throat and that earned him more pleased, breathless moans from the blunette before him. Ah, god, how he loved those sounds.

Bobbing his head up and down, Ichigo sucked, carnal slurping sounds filling the room. Sex God's hands fisted into his shoulder length orange hair, gently and yet somehow forcefully guiding his head up and down on his dick. Ichigo moaned as he slid his free hand down his front and into his boxers, gripping himself because his own erection had become intolerable at this point.

The hands in his hair became even more insistent, forcing his mouth even further down, until Ichigo's nose was buried in blue curls. However, he hadn't been prepared for that and his gag reflex kicked in, and then that started off a chain of events that shall only be repeated once due to their mortifying nature.

Ichigo reared back just as Sex God let out his loudest moaned curse yet and he had just slipped his mouth off of the enormous cock he had been sucking off when Sex God came, shooting white, pearly liquid right onto the orangette's face. Now normally, this wouldn't be a problem, because Ichigo doesn't really mind people as beautiful as Sex God coming on his face, but you see, the thing was there was a _lot _of come and most of it ended up in Ichigo's right eye.

"Ah, shit!" he cried out, sitting back on his haunches and letting go of both his and the other man's dicks to wipe at his face, rubbing at his eye, which turned out be the worst thing possible to do, because the white stuff just started to sting even worse as it was rubbed into Ichigo's cornea.

"What? What's wrong?" came Sex God's concerned, yet dazed, post-orgasm voice. Ichigo just shook his head, his eyes now watering as he took his shirt that he was still wearing and wiped at his face desperately with it.

"You got it in my eye!" he exclaimed, knowing he was being a little harsh considering it was most likely an accident, but that shit _stings.  
><em>  
>"Oh, fuck! Sorry, I-" through his one good eye, Ichigo could see Sex God sitting up and reaching out to him, which would've been endearing any other time.<p>

"No, it's fine!" he insisted, backing away on the bed from the other male. "It's fine," he said more calmly, feeling a little guilty for yelling. "I'm just...I'm just going to go home now."

"What? Why?"

"I'm tired," Ichigo replied lamely, getting off of the bed and letting his shirt fall back to its proper place. He looked back at Sex God, sitting still exposed and still beautiful on the bed, an unreadable look in his sapphire eyes. "Uh, bye," the orangette said half-heartedly, feeling embarrassment well up in his chest, a.k.a. the worst feeling in the entire world.

"Hey, wait!"

But Ichigo was already fumbling with the door, slipping outside into the hallway, his right eye still closed and still stinging.

Gods, he was such an idiot, giving a blow job to a guy whose name he doesn't know and will probably never know because the guy think he's a loser for freaking out over getting a little semen in his eye like it was the fucking end of the world or something.

It was official for the second time that night. The gods hated him.

* * *

><p><em>Love and dignity cannot share the same abode. <em>

* * *

><p>"I cannot believe you gave him the ambrosia. You are as reckless as ever, little brother," Ulquiorra sighed uncharacteristically, placing a hand over his forehead.<p>

"Please, like you haven't done some serious risk-taking_, older brother_."

"I don't know what you are referring to," Ulquiorra said, even though he knew fully well what his younger, blue-haired brother was talking about. It had only been one of the defining moments of his life. "Getting back to the issue at hand, are you even sure that it's him, Grimmjow?"

The blunette turned to him and grinned, his teeth sharp and white.

"Oh yeah, it's him alright," he said, turning back to his brother with small smile on his face, twirling a small golden ring in his fingers. "I think it's time to give our dear old mother a call."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, officially the longest chapter I've ever written! **Alright, I know this idea has been done to _death_, but perhaps it can be salvaged by the descriptions of Grimmjow in a toga? Maybe?  
>I also think the fact that I started this story officially states that I have no self-control, though I did fight off plenty of plot bunnies, this one was just wouldn't leave me alone! One of my favorite Disney movies of all time when I was little was Hercules, and I got really into Greek mythology when I was a little bit older than that, so when I was watching Animal House the other day and this idea crept into my mind, I just had to write it!<p>

**Oh and**I started posting updates over on my deviantart, so you can go "watch" me over there if you wish. : D

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

Quotes belong to Homer and Ovid.

**Note: **I took the Greek letters for Kappa Alpha Lambda from the Greek phrase "**καλλίστῃ**" or "_Kallístēi"_ which can be translated to mean "for the prettiest one" or "to the most beautiful." However, it has come to my attention that this name has already been claimed by another Greek Letter Society for professional Lesbian women. Oops.


	2. In Which There is Too Much Blackmail

**δεύτερο κεφάλαιο:**

**In Which There is Too Much Blackmail**

* * *

><p><em>Mortals grow swiftly in misfortune.<em>

* * *

><p>"You are <em>so <em>lucky that Izuru decided to grow a brain for the night and take pictures with his phone! Do you _know _what would have happened if I had ended up with no pictures for the beginning of the semester issue's main article?" Rukia crossed her arms over her flat chest, narrowing her normally wide dark violet eyes. "Well, _do you_?"

Ichigo only nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor. There was no need to mention that not only had he forgotten to take pictures in the wake of his embarrassment last night, but that he had also forgotten the school's camera at the KAL house, specifically on the dresser of one Sex God.

And _that _thought only led to other, much more mortifying ones that were only made worse by the phantom sting in Ichigo's right eye, which was a rather nice shade of bloodshot that morning.

"If I don't have some damn good pictures for next week's issue," Rukia didn't even bother finishing her sentence, just rolling her eyes and huffing violently before turning around to sit back down at her desk.

Well, actually her "desk" was more of a table shoved in the corner of the printing room that she had covered every inch with Chappy the Bunny merchandise.

"I mean, I want something _juicy_. Something scandalous, something that's going to make the issue sell so that funding will throw us a bone instead of giving all the damn money to the football team this year, got it?"

"Wait," Ichigo looked up from the floor, his eyes widening. "You're not firing me?"

"Technically, I can't _fire _you because I don't pay you anything," Rukia sighed heavily, reclining in her chair and looking towards the ceiling. It was her "life is so hard when I have to deal with idiots like you" pose, but Ichigo would take it. The dark-haired girl frowned at him from across her table-desk and pursed her lips. "You can go now," she said monotonously.

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo waved her off, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he could snap some photos of that would make the paper really _sell_. If he hadn't turned around at that moment and walked out of the printing room in the basement of the university he would've seen the dangerously ticking vein on Rukia Kuchiki's forehead. But that's not really a sight that anyone wants to see.

The English department really couldn't have picked anyone better to be the lead student editor of the school paper. Before she had taken over, the "serious" journalism majors who had contributed to the paper had run only "serious" articles on pressing school issues, like whether the cafeteria food was adhering to the Department of Health's standards. Needless to say, no one ever read the KU Weekly. But when Rukia came along, she had completely revamped the entire thing, running articles on the two things she said sold on campus: sports and sex.

Ichigo would've liked to photograph pictures for a "serious" article, being a photojournalism major, but he couldn't deny that snapping shots of drool-worthy football players was just as fulfilling.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Ichigo was lacing up his roller skates.<p>

Yes, that's right. Roller skates.

Now, you're probably wondering why anyone would be wearing roller skates, considering the fact that roller rinks have been pretty much extinct for the past two decades and surely no one would actually wear them to just skate around town. Well, the reason why Ichigo was donning roller skates was named Shunsui Kyoraku.

Shunsui had lived in America for a few years when he was studying abroad and in his crazy and wild youth had stumbled across a retro-styled diner in one of the southern states, and immediately fell in love. He loved the American oldies music playing from the jukebox, the old-fashioned hamburgers and French fries and milkshakes, the pale blue, white, and red decor, he loved all of it. But most of all?

He loved how the waiters glided about on the tiled floor on roller skates.

And this was how a desperate, broke Ichigo came to work at Shunsui's All-American Diner over a year ago, and how he learned to roller skate, while carrying a tray full of carbonated beverages he might add.

"Just seated two different booths in your section, Ichigo," a voice called to him as the door to the employees' small break room swung open to reveal a slight girl with two long, burgundy pigtails.

"Be there in a second," he said as he stood from the chair and table that they normally used for lunch breaks, if they ever had time to sit down that is. Turns out Shunsui's was the only place in a five mile radius that could serve a decent hamburger, so the place was usually pretty packed.

"And, uh," the girl's voice lowered to a whisper and an uncharacteristically somber expression came over her pretty face, making Ichigo frown. "_He _called, asked if you had a shift today."

Letting out a long sigh, Ichigo coasted over on his skates to where the girl was propped up against the door.

"I told him that you weren't coming in, but-"

"Thanks, Riruka. I'll deal with it," he cut her off. He didn't need to hear what she would say, he already knew. This was the first time _he _had called his workplace, but Ichigo had known that it was coming considering he kept ignoring the calls on his cell phone.

"Alright, but you better hurry and get your cute little hiney out there, the two guys at booth seven are _hah-ties_," Riruka giggled, returning to her normal self once more. Ichigo just shook his head a little, yanking on one of her long ponytails as he glided past her and into the space behind the eat-in bar. He ignored her shriek of protest and smiled a little to himself.

The diner was exceptionally busy that afternoon, full of boisterous children and their equally loud parents. Add that to the blaring music from the ancient jukebox ("My Girl" by the Temptations) and the sizzling of the burgers and the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen and you got the cacophony that was currently assaulting Ichigo's ears. But he was used to it.

He stopped at booth one first, where a mother and father sat with their two children. Unfortunately, they turned out to be the chatty type. The married ones always were, they just _had _to comment on how "neat" the American retro style of the diner was, and how the decorator had done such a nice job, and that they just loved the food. It was only after a very long minute and a half that Ichigo finally got them to order their drinks.

_Ugh, married people._The gods help him if he ever turned into one, he thought as he skated away to retrieve the sodas the family had ordered.

However, just as he was rounding the corner, gliding smoothly between two tables, he curiously glanced over at booth seven, curious about the hotties that Riruka had mentioned earlier. There were actually three people, their hair all equally eye-catching. An auburn just a shade darker than Ichigo's own, ebony black, and (why did he know this was coming?), robin's egg blue.

The last made him stop in his tracks, so much so that the tip of his right roller skate caught on a nearby table's leg, sending him catapulting forward, his face nearly smashing into the tiled floor before he could splay his hands before him.  
>Face burning as he lay there for a long moment, he heard several people gasp and a few barely contained snickers at his expense. Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself off of the floor, which was a little difficult considering he was wearing roller skates.<p>

Forgetting for a second just why he had tripped in the first place, he looked directly up, somehow meeting dark blue eyes full of mirth even though they were twenty feet away. And somehow they managed to make his heart completely stop for longer than he thought was healthy.

He didn't know why in all of the two times he had ever seen the Sex God in person, he managed to make an utter fool of himself. He wasn't clumsy, he was bloody graceful, damn it. He could skate circles around anyone else in the whole damn place.

But, if those teen romance novels were anything to go by, guys liked clumsy girls, so wouldn't the rule also apply to clumsy guys?

Maybe not.

Weighing his options for a second or two, Ichigo decided that the best thing to do would just be to face it head on. Get it over and done with, like taking off a band-aid. Obviously, Sex God didn't want anything to do with him after what had transpired last night, not that he could blame him. And it was complete coincidence that he happened to be sitting in his section, in booth seven.

Ichigo ignored the fact that until that day he had never believed in coincidences.

But still, being a manly man (or so he thought), he was determined to not make a fool out of himself anymore. Shit, in high school he had people practically begging him to go out with them. Why would should he get all flustered just by one Sex God?

Gliding over as confidently as he could while wearing roller skates, he slid right up to the table, looking straight away, determined not to look into those sapphires the gorgeous man had for eyes. He felt like such a loser, wearing roller skates and the bright teal uniform of Shunsui's.

"I didn't know you worked here, Ichigo," a bright voice piped up from the opposite side that the blunette Sex God was sitting on. Turning his head to his left, Ichigo noticed Orihime and Ulquiorra sitting side by side, with the auburn-haired girl sitting closest to him. She was wearing her trademark dreamy smile and her boyfriend, his customary apathetic stare.

"Yeah, I've been here for about a year," Ichigo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, positively _feeling _the heat from Sex God's eyes on him.

"And you know how to roller skate?" Orihime asked, and Ichigo fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes."

"Oh, that's nice! You know, I've always wanted to know how to roller skate, do you think that you-"

"I think we're ready to order," Ulquiorra's monotone voice cut off Orihime's question and Ichigo felt his eyebrow raise, but reached for his small notepad and pen in the small, blue apron around his waist and nodded. Obviously the guy had jealousy issues.

"Wha'dya want?" he asked lazily, poising his pen above the paper. He made sure his eyes were trained on the blank notepad before him, and nowhere else, specifically the gray t-shirt clad chest he could barely make out with his peripheral vision. He could only imagine what Sex God's face must look like. Would he be smirking with some sort of smug satisfaction? Or would it just be indifferent? Either way it would be beautiful, but he really hoped that it wasn't the latter. Just like he hoped that somehow that the guy didn't just consider him a one-time thing, someone with an expiration date stamped on their forehead.

_Ichigo Kurosaki, 19, orange hair, brown eyes. Stop giving a shit after 30 days maximum._

Let's just say that Ichigo hasn't had the best track record when it came to dating, and he knew Sex God's type all too well.

"I will have the classic burger, no tomatoes. Well done," Ulquiorra said, not even bothering to look at the menu. That was fine, because _all _burger joints and diners have "classic" burgers.

"Hmm...I think I'll have this ranch burger," Orihime said cautiously, peering at the menu. "But can you have them put avocados and red gravy on it? Oh, and maybe a little cranberry sauce?" she looked up from the menu, snapping it shut with an air of finality. Not even blinking, Ichigo wrote it down on the notepad. Hell, to each their own. And at least she wasn't one of those "everything on the side" kind of people.

Inhaling deeply, he turned to his right, his breath leaving him in one great gasp that he hoped was silent. But being the cocky son of a bitch that he sometimes was, Ichigo arched a brow and half-smiled at the blue-haired man that still managed to almost be eye-level with him even though he was sitting down.

"And for you?" he asked in what he hoped was a confident way, because confidence is sexy remember?

He was rewarded with a slow smirk, pure blue eyes glinting with amusement. Oh dear lord, the guy was wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans, and his hair was just as perfectly imperfect as Ichigo remembered. If it was possible, he looked even better than he had the night before.

"Ya still serve breakfast?" Sex God asked, lips parting to reveal his whiter than white teeth.

"All day," Ichigo said nonchalantly, looking down at the man with hooded eyes. He hoped that his shameless attempt at flirting was working. He could be good at it when the target wasn't so...pretty.

"And the pancakes come with fruit, right?" Blue eyes flickered from Ichigo's to the menu to check.

"Yeah."

If it was possible, the Sex God's smirk grew even wider and Ichigo could have sworn that there were literally millions of little, tiny stars in the man's eyes.

"Good, 'cause I want extra _ichigo _on the side."

The orangette couldn't deny that several shivers made their way up his spine at the moment, but it seemed like the only thing he could think of was;

"Oh god, that joke is so old."

At the surprised look that flitted across the Sex God's angel face, Ichigo's eyes immediately widened and then he felt the tips of his ears burn.

He really hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Ugh, I'll be right back with your food," he said lamely, pivoting harshly and his skates screeching as they skidded along the tiled floor as he skated away. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard an amused, throaty chuckle from behind him.

As he rounded the bar, he placed the notepad paper with the order on it on the lazy susan, and reached for the stack of plastic glasses they kept beside the soda fountain. But as he reached with his left hand, something caught his eyes. Or, it was actually what _didn't _catch his eye that had him suddenly feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him.

His ring was gone.

Ichigo had worn a ring everyday since he was nine years old, switching from wearing it on his pointer finger to his ring one when his hands had grown. _Everyday _he had worn it and had never lost it. In fact, he could swear it was still there, he could feel it as he flexed his hand.

"Damn it," he hissed under his breath as he shoved the glass in his hand none too gently under the soda fountain nozzle.

His luck really seemed to have run dry these past two days.

"Are you okay, Ichigo?"

Craning his neck to see the person that had spoken to him, he saw that it was Chad, the fry cook, staring down at him with one concerned dark eye, the other covered by wavy seal brown hair.

"Yeah...fine," Ichigo muttered, taking the glass away from the soda fountain when the dark liquid started to spill over onto his hand. Chad didn't push the issue, just nodded and walked away. Ichigo had always liked that about the mostly silent gentle giant. He didn't pry.

After making his rounds in his his section and delivering the drinks to the family at booth one, and desperately trying not to make eye contact with a certain blue-haired Sex God. Not that it was working. It was something about those eyes...they were like magnets or something, and they made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he simply couldn't stop looking at them. If magic were real, he would swear on his life that he was under some kind of spell.  
>Ichigo felt weird that he could have such feelings of wonderful restlessness just minutes after he's realized he's lost his ring. Maybe you'd think it's weird that <em>he<em>felt weird, but that ring was really, really important.

He brought the tray, loaded with three plates, over to booth seven around twenty minutes later, and he made sure to turn to a stop in a rather impressive roller-skating move, dishing out the plates of food while saying their contents.

"Classic burger, no tomatoes. Ranch burger, with avocados, red gravy, and cranberry sauce. And pancakes," Ichigo slid the plate of flapjacks towards the blunette, looking him straight in the eyes. "With extra _ichigo _on the side." Winking once, he whipped around on his skates and glided off.

See? Graceful.

_Operation Flirt Without Looking Like A Total Loser's Status: Successful.  
><em>  
>Of course, Ichigo might have felt better if his eye didn't start psychosomatically stinging again.<p>

* * *

><p>"God, you're so lucky you're a server and not a host, standing up there for hours is <em>so boring<em>," Riruka drawled as she filed away at her fingernails.

"Yeah, well at least you don't get yelled at when someone asks for pickles on the side, and god forbid they're on the bun," Ichigo sighed.

They were currently walking through the back door of Shunsui's, their shifts over for the night. They had both taken over their roller skates, Ichigo's dangling from the crook of his finger as he slung them over his shoulder.

"I suppose that's true," Riruka agreed, putting away her nail file into her purse and taking out her car keys. "You sure you don't need a ride?" she teased, spinning the keychain around her fingers. Ichigo just shook his head.

"Nah, I'll just walk."

"Okay then, see you later," Riruka waved and was off walking to where her red Mini-Cooper was parked by the side of the diner.

"Bye," Ichigo called over his shoulder as he rounded the corner to walk onto the street that would lead him back to his apartment before someone stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path.

"Hey there, _Ichigo_."

There was only person on the green Earth that could say his name like that.

Taking a step backwards, Ichigo looked up into sparkling blue eyes and a dazzling half-smile, the ones that he thought had left the restaurant quite a while ago.

"I thought you left three hours ago," he blurted out. It seemed that he had trouble thinking straight whenever he was in the presence of the Sex God. "Did you wait for me?" He didn't mean for it to sound suspicious, but it definitely came out the way, but the other male just shrugged, unaffected. Ichigo wondered if he was going to bring up...The Incident and then sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening that he didn't.

"Maybe," the blunette said nonchalantly. "I just wanted ta talk, ya know, we haven't really been formally introduced," he chuckled a bit and Ichigo could see the man's broad chest vibrating. He pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow.

"What, you mean like names and stuff?" Ichigo asked. Truth be told, he was kind of excited that he would finally learn the Sex God's name, though he probably wouldn't stop referring to him as such. Mentally, of course.

"Yeah, and stuff," the other man grinned, a little sadistic gleam in his eternally blue eyes. "I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, and you are...?"

_Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.  
><em>  
>It was a strange name to say the least, but it definitely fit the gorgeous man in front of him.<p>

"You already know my name," Ichigo gave a wry smile.

"True, but fer formality's sake," Grimmjow stuck out his hand in between them.

"Alright then. Ichigo Kurosaki," he grasped the hand in front of him, noting how the skin was softer and smoother than he would have imagined it to be.

This handshake was just about as different as you could get from the one Ichigo and Ulquiorra had shared last night. In fact, their hands didn't even move at all, they just stood there, holding the other's. And the blue magnets Grimmjow had for eyes sucked in Ichigo's own glazed ones.

After a few long seconds, they both dropped their hands and Ichigo noticed how his felt abnormally warm...and empty.

"Ya left something at the house last night," Grimmjow said, reaching into his front jeans' pocket and Ichigo had to resist the urge to lick his lips as his eyes fell on the denim covered area. He remembered all too well what lay beneath that fabric that hugged Grimmjow's thighs like there was no tomorrow.

The other's hand returned to the night air, holding something small and golden between his middle finger and his thumb. It was a ring, not a regular circular band however. The metal that reached up to close the circle branched out into three tangents on each side, crooked and knobby, like antlers.

"Oh, shit, you found it!" Ichigo exclaimed before he could stop himself. For a second he didn't even care whether or not he looked cool in front of Grimmjow, all he cared about was that the ring wasn't lost to him after all. Excited, he went to grab it from Grimmjow's hands (in a totally polite way, of course) but before he could, the blunette jerked his hand away.

Giving Grimmjow a confused scowl, Ichigo withdrew his hand and placed it back by his side. He looked up to see the other man was clearly enjoying his reaction, a smug grin fixed on his face.

"Aren't you going to give it to me?"

"Yes," Grimmjow answered simply, but he shoved the ring into his front pocket again. "Eventually."

Ichigo felt warmth pool in his cheeks, but not out of embarrassment, but rather annoyance and indignation.

"That was my mother's ring," he stated lowly.

He wasn't lying, but Grimmjow "tsk-ed" anyway.

"Emotional blackmail won't work on me, Ichigo."

"Blackmail? _You're_ the one who's blackmailing _me_."

"I'm only keeping it as insurance," the other man said unabashedly, clearly unaffected by Ichigo's revelation.

"Insurance," the orangette repeated.

"Yeah, you'll get it back," Grimmjow's smirk spread into a full blow smile, something sharp and hungry, like a serrated knife. "_If _you meet me in the university library tomorrow at three."

"I'll meet you there if you give it back, now," Ichigo thrust forward an open palm, his tone no longer the playful one it had been earlier, when he had been very obviously flirting with the other man.

"Tomorrow, three o'clock, in the Western Wing of the library," Grimmjow's smile never faltered and he spun on his heel and started walking away. Ichigo sputtered for a few seconds before brandishing a finger at the retreating man's back.

"Hey, get back here! Give me back my ring," he took off after the blunette when the other turned the corner, but when Ichigo did, Grimmjow was nowhere in sight.

Seriously, it was like he had...disappeared.

"Damn it," Ichigo cursed for the second time that night, kicking out at the diner's dumpsters.

Screw Sex God. Screw Grimmjow. Ichigo could think of several other names he would rather call the blue-haired prick.

* * *

><p>Already in a terribly foul mood, Ichigo was in no mood with what awaited him when he arrived at his apartment complex.<p>

There was tall, lithe young man sitting on the steps to the front entryway, an open book in his hands as he read through it. He had long, ebony hair that fell past his shoulders and a handsome face that remained stoic as he looked up to see Ichigo in front of him, the orangette's expression one that resembled the calm before the storm.

"What are you doing here, Shukuro?"

"I came to see you, obviously," Shukuro replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired man.

"Go home." Ichigo moved to walk past Shukuro. "And stop calling me," he added.

"Ah, but I have something that may be of interest to you," the other said emotionlessly as he placed a bookmark inside of his novel to hold the place before snapping it shut with one hand.

Ichigo paused, looking down at the man once more.

"I'm sure you don't have to ask to know what it is I am referring to," Shukuro raised his dark eyes to meet Ichigo's sepia ones, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his usually flat mouth.

"What do you want?" Ichigo growled, his grip tightening on the roller skate's laces he still held in his hand.

"To be honest, I won't waste my time telling you that. You already know," Shukuro sighed heavily before standing from the stairs and tucking his book under his arm. They stood face to face and Shukuro raised one finger as if to touch Ichigo's cheek before the orangette stepped back, his brow furrowing as he glared at the tall man.

"Spell it out for me."

"I just want things to be like they were, and I know you do too," Shukuro gave a dry chuckle. "I also know that you wouldn't want everyone you know to see what I have."

Ichigo didn't even have words for his frustration. He knew he couldn't just straight out deck the bastard like he wanted to, otherwise he could be sure that Shukuro would make good on his unspoken threat. He was stuck.

"I'll call you later," Shukuro said as if he hadn't just put the shake on Ichigo. Then he simply walked away and the latter could swear there was a spring in his step that normally wasn't there.

Snarling, Ichigo threw open the door to his apartment building, scowling at everyone in sight. Several people got off of the elevator once he stepped onto it, as if they were afraid that he would go ballistic and start using his roller skates as nunchaku on everyone in sight.

Leaning his head against the cool metal of the elevator once the doors closed, Ichigo resisted the urge to punch it. He knew it would feel good, but he really couldn't afford to pay for the damage.  
>Honestly, he could swear that only this kind of stuff ever happened to him.<p>

Blackmailed twice in one night. What luck.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I feel like such a dork writing Ichigo roller skating around, but...IDEK, I just really wanted to for some reason. It was fun. Oh and don't worry, more Greek mythology stuff is coming next chapter! :D

If you want, you can also add me on DeviantArt, the username is **caribouandcake615**.

**Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed/ added this to their alerts and favorites.**Makes me smile : D. Also, I did get one negative review last chapter saying that my colloquial rambles were off-putting to readers, so I tried to clean this chapter up a bit. : )

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. I also do not own the song "My Girl", though I listened to it while writing the diner scene. : 3

Also, you can see Ichigo's ring here (without the spaces) It's a huge clue to the plot, I might add:

http :/ www. etsy .com / listing / 61496765 / jewelers - bronze - whitetail - deer - antler


	3. In Which Life is Not Fair

**κεφάλαιο τρία:**

**In Which Life is Not Fair**

_Against the bold, daring is unsafe._

* * *

><p>"Remind me why we are doing this again."<p>

Orihime Inoue's face fell behind her expensive, black sunglasses, the ones that were supposed to be concealing her identity. They weren't really doing a spectacular job, considering she had left her eye-catching, long auburn hair untouched.

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten! And you have to say over at the end of every sentence when you use a walkie-talkie, Ulqui. Over."

Ulquiorra just sighed and placed his chin in his hand as he rested his elbow on the table at which he was sitting. It was right next to the balcony that overlooked the western wing of Karakura University's library, giving a great view of everything that _wasn't _going on. No one was at the library at this time of year, not even obnoxiously studious students like himself.

Instead he was sitting in the library, in an-all black outfit that Orihime insisted he wear and holding a walkie-talkie to talk to the girl, who was sitting across the open atrium from him, a chandelier blocking their view of each other.

"No, I haven't forgotten. It just still escapes me _why _exactly we are in the library when classes have not even begun this semester," he deadpanned.

"_Because_, we have to make sure Grimm doesn't do anything to scare Ichigo away. _Over_," Orihime lifted a finger into the air as if she had just relayed very important information and then lifted her juice box from the table beside her and started sipping it so loudly that the sound echoed in the empty library.

_Slurrrp.  
><em>  
>"It's very important, you know. If Ichigo won't listen to him, there's just no telling what could happen! Ichigo could discover who he is all on his own, and then he thinks that he's gone mentally insane because he doesn't understand and thinks he's all alone in the big, cruel world and no one knows what he's going through, and it will just fester inside of him for years. Then, he'll get caught up in a world of sex and drugs to help him cope and he'll become addicted to cocaine and then he'll have to sell his body to pay for his dirty little secret, so then-"<p>

"You are doing it again," Ulquiorra interrupted and the girl across from him stopped and gasped for air around the straw of her juice box. "Over," he added as an afterthought.

"Sorry," she mumbled, redness tinging her cheeks. If Ulquiorra were a less reserved man, he would have smiled then. Orihime had always looked her best with her face flushed like that, and he wished he could see it.. "It's just that I-," she paused when they both heard the squeaking sound of a door opening from below. Adjusting the sunglasses on her face, she sidled up closer to the balcony, looking over the railing at the newcomer.

She and Ulquiorra both watched as a tall, blue-haired man strolled in, a laptop case slung over his shoulder as he sat at the table in the far right corner of the wing. Orihime giggled to herself as she saw that he chose the table between the only two bookshelves that held surprisingly raunchy romance novels for a university library.

They looked on, one enraptured, the other a perfect picture of apathy, as Grimmjow took out his laptop and placed it onto the table, pressing the power button on the side to boot it up. Both Ulquiorra and Orihime had a clear view of the computer screen as it flickered on.

From above, they watched Grimmjow as he pulled up the web browser and typed in a web address into the URL. When they saw what came onto the screen, Ulquiorra could hear Orihime's startled giggle over the walkie-talkie's transmission.

"Is he..."

"Yes, in a public place no less," Ulquiorra replied, lowering his voice so that the man on the level below them couldn't hear their conversation.

Orihime clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as pictures stared to move across the computer screen and she thought she would have to leave, lest her and Ulquiorra be discovered by the blunette, but then the squeaking noise came again, signaling that the door had been opened.

"Oh, Ulquiorra, look! Um...target's in sight. Over."

"I see."

"You see, _over_. Over."

* * *

><p>Ichigo couldn't possibly have imagined what waited for him in the library that day, or what would happen after he got there. He really couldn't have, because he truly had no idea what the Sex God, er, Grimmjow, actually wanted him to go to the library for.<p>

It wasn't like it could be a date, because Ichigo believed that hooking up in a public University library was better in theory then in practice. Not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure that he would never give it up to Grimmjow again so easily. Unless, of course he wanted to repent for his sins...

Back to the point, what would the blunette want to meet him in the library? Was he going to blackmail Ichigo into doing his homework for him or something?

Well, no, that couldn't be it either, considering classes hadn't even started.

Sighing, Ichigo rounded a bookcase and walked into the western wing of Karakura University's library. He had to admit it was a pretty place, with an open atrium and a balcony overlooking the public study area. The huge windows on all sides of the wing let in the afternoon sun and in some spots the light was almost blinding, but in a good way. It was almost...romantic.

It didn't take long for him to spot a familiar head of blue hair, the person whom it belonged turned away from him, even though Ichigo was sure that he had heard the door's squeak, unless the blunette was completely oblivious.

Slowly and as quietly as he could, Ichigo walked up to where Grimmjow was sitting at the table, and he could see over the man's shoulder a laptop propped open in front of him. When he got within five feet of the still ignorant man, his eyes flickered over the laptop screen, his eyes widening at what he saw was being displayed.

Unable to hold back his burst of laughter that echoed loudly around the mostly empty library, Ichigo alerted Grimmjow to his presence. The other jolted upright in his chair, immediately slamming his laptop shut and turning around, his sapphire eyes wide.

Upon seeing Grimmjow's shocked expression, Ichigo just laughed even harder, raising a finger to point at the stunned blunette.

"You...you," but he wasn't able to finish his sentence before breaking into amused chortles once more.

Ichigo had to admit that seeing Grimmjow watching _that _might have even made having his mother's ring held for ransom worth it.

"You're early," Grimmjow stated, his eyes narrowing and folding his arms across his broad chest. Ichigo noticed that he was wearing a light blue button-down shirt that matched his eyes, the cuffs rolled up to expose the smooth, tawny skin of his forearms. He finally stopped giggling by biting down on his bottom lip and remembering why he was there in the first place.

"By ten minutes," Ichigo shrugged, cocking an eyebrow. "So...you normally watch cute cat videos on the internet, or was this just a one-time thing?"

Surprisingly, and unlike most red-blooded males that Ichigo knew of, Grimmjow didn't flush with embarrassment or even get angry at being caught red-handed while watching kittens play with yarn on Youtube. Instead, his mimicked Ichigo, shrugging and cocking one thing, blue eyebrow.

"What can I say? I like cute things," he smirked, flashing a little bit of pearly white teeth. Ichigo frowned, upset at not gaining revenge on Grimmjow for blackmailing him by teasing him. They stared each other down for a long moment, or actually Ichigo stared Grimmjow down, while the other just kept smirking up at him.

"Why am I here?" Ichigo caved, asking the question that had plagued his thoughts with all the incessant annoyance of a persistent mosquito.

"Good question," Grimmjow smiled, a sadistic gleam in his bright eyes. "Why don't ya take a seat and find out?"

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Ichigo moved to sit in the chair on the opposite end of the small wooden table. He would play along...for a little while, at least.

Grimmjow reclined in his seat, looking down at the orangette with an obviously smug expression on his face. And oh how Ichigo wanted to just take out a fly swatter and smack it off of his face. A small smile parted his lips for a fraction of a second just picturing it.

"Well, the first thing I wanted to tell you was that shit like that _never _happens to me."

"Shit like what?" Ichigo asked without thinking. The blunette across from him laced his fingers behind the back of his head and raised one eyebrow in a clearly 'Are you serious?' look.

Oh.

_Oh_.

He was talking about... the_ Incident_, which, as you may recall, will never, _ever _be repeated out of respect for the victims, a.k.a. Ichigo. Said victim felt warmth blossom over his face and he knew that he was probably just as red as a poppy flower at that moment. He said nothing, just lowered his eyes to rest on the wood of the table.

"Don't be ashamed. In fact, you should be flattered," Grimmjow chuckled a little and Ichigo looked up at him with an incredulous expression.

"What?" he croaked out, feeling his face become even redder, if that was possible.

"Yeah, it means you're special," the other man unlaced his fingers and reached for Ichigo's hand that rested on the top of the table, that was immediately jerked away and placed in Ichigo's lap.

"Okay, fine I get it. It's no big deal, now can I have my ring back?" Ichigo asked quietly, but firmly, meeting Grimmjow's eyes with his own, disturbed when the other's didn't dull with defeat but rather just sparkled even more.

"Hold on, didn't I say that that was the_ first _thing I wanted to tell you?"

Ichigo scowled at the other man.

"Is this going to be when you profess your undying love for me?" he deadpanned. You see, it's not like he necessarily wanted to be loved by a dirty blackmailer with an ego problem, but if he was, then at least it would be one as good-looking as the one before him. So, really, he was only sort of being sarcastic.

Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter, throwing his head back.

"Not exactly, sweetheart." He winked, then stood from his chair, towering over Ichigo's still seated form. Through slitted eyes, Ichigo watched as he walked over to where there was a positively _monstrous _book sitting on a stand by the window closest to them.

He decided to let the 'sweetheart' comment go, just this once. But only because the bastard still had his mother's ring.

When Grimmjow unceremoniously dropped the book onto the table in front of him, Ichigo noticed that it looked rather old, with the pages yellowed and the printing inside of it was in a rather formal script.

"You might be special, but I think I have another explanation as to why it happened," Grimmjow said huskily as he leaned over the table to rest his hands on either side of Ichigo's chair, his breath fanning over the hair the fell just to the beginning of Ichigo's shirt collar.

Ichigo shivered in delight, wondering why someone so sinfully pretty and undeniably attractive had to be so infuriating? How could he find someone hot when they called him "sweetheart" and had blackmailed him into going to the library with his mother's ring and, of course, there were the events of the _Incident_.

"And?" It was supposed to come out curt, but instead Ichigo sounded faint.

"Listen, Ichigo, just read the page and I'll give you your ring back."

This time, Grimmjow's breath was by his ear and it was positively obscene how it sent shockwaves of desire through Ichigo, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It was impossible trying to deny that the blunette was Ichigo's own personal version of temptation, his own forbidden fruit, the apple from the tree of knowledge in the garden of Eden. The only thing standing between Ichigo being seated like a good little boy and Ichigo jumping the bones of the man behind him was that last little bit of pride he had left.

He wouldn't have sex in the university library with the man that had blackmailed him with his mother's ring, his _mother's _ring. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.

Seriously though, no offense to ex-boyfriends numbers One, Two, Three, and Four, but he was pretty sure he would bend over right then and there, and lose his virginity all too willingly, if it weren't for that annoying little fact. Why oh why had his blue-haired Sex God gone and messed everything up? It was all _his_fault, damn it.

"Whatever," Ichigo mumbled under his breath. "Just stop hovering, it's annoying. I can't read with you...breathing down my neck like that."

An amused chuckle and then the heat from Ichigo's back was gone, leaving him very cold in the warm library. Shaking his head to try and clear it, he focused his eyes on the book laying open before him. There was a header written at the top of the left page in slightly bigger font, he could barely make out the words as the printing ink had smudged over the years.

_The Food and Drink of the Gods_

Furrowing his brow, Ichigo stopped reading, confused. Why was Grimmjow having him read some sort of mythology book?

Maybe the the guy was more than slightly off his rocker.

Returning to the page, he started to read the first paragraph.

* * *

><p><em>In ancient Greek mythology, it was said that the gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus only consumed the sweet drink known as ambrosia and the ripe fruits that grew on the towering mountain exclusively. It was also said that the ambrosia and fruit, most commonly referred to as nectar, held exceptional properties and that the beings that consumed them had ichor, instead of blood, in their veins.<br>_  
><em>Of the two, the ambrosia is more universally known and referred to in ancient texts, like that of Homer's epic poetry. The ambrosia was likened to mead, or fermented honey, the alcoholic drink that would often take the place of wine, and the liquid was described as the best thing to ever lay upon a mortal's tongue. It was also depicted as having been brought to the Mount by doves, and was therefore seen as a kind of divine exhalation of the Earth.<br>_  
><em>The most noteworthy property of ambrosia was its ability to bestow ageless immortality on the drinker, as seen in several myths when mortals or the offspring of both a god and a mortal (these being demigods) were given the drink so that they could live in Olympus with the gods. Though the demigods had to drink the ambrosia and eat the nectar so that they could gain their entire birthright of power and eternal life.<br>_  
><em>However, it was also written in poems and myths that ambrosia could sometimes act as a powerful aphrodisiac, making those under its effect more likely to indulge in their carnal desires. In some older myths, it was said that Eros himself dipped his arrows in ambrosia when he would take aim at potential lovers, but realized his mistake when these mortals did not age. It was even written that the gods themselves would fall prey to the rapturous feeling that ambrosia induced.<br>_

* * *

><p>Ichigo re-read the last paragraph on the page five times.<p>

He wasn't sure what the hell he was reading this for. He wasn't familiar in the least with Greek mythology, so he didn't understand what the mountain Olympus was or who 'Eros' was supposed to be. And he'd never even heard the word 'ambrosia' in reference to anything other than the fruit salad. You know, the one with marshmallows in it?

But Grimmjow had said...that it might be another explanation for what _happened_. The Incident. Was this some sort of metaphor? Was 'ambrosia' a code word for something?

_Aphrodisiac_. Now, that Ichigo thought about it, he _had _been a tad more forward than usual that night, but not anything extreme. It was just usually that he liked to know a gent's name before sucking them off.

Had Grimmjow...

"Did you _drug_me?" Ichigo nearly screeched, on his feet in an instant, his hands clenching into fists by his side. He whipped his head to the left to see Grimmjow there, hands in his pockets and looking totally and completely irreverent. Meanwhile, a vein was ticking dangerously by Ichigo's right temple, his eyes narrowing and proverbial steam coming out of his ears and nose.

How could he have been so stupid? Accepting a _special _drink from a frat boy, and not even bothering to ask what it was. You would've thought he'd learned by now, especially after-

"No," Grimmjow answered, his lips curving to fall into a frown (that did absolutely nothing to stop him from being improperly beautiful.) "You really don't get it?" he asked, genuinely sounding confused and disappointed.

"What are you talking about?" Ichigo growled, taking a step closer to the blunette. He really didn't want to ruin that angel's face, but he was about, oh...three seconds away from pummeling his fists into it so hard the man's third cousin, twice removed would feel it.

"Just relax, Ichigo. I thought that you would be able to put the pieces together after reading that...," Grimmjow trailed up, eyes rolling to look up at the ceiling in casual thought.

"Tell me, damn it," Ichigo demanded, growing more and more frustrated, and desperate, by the moment. He was so utterly confused that he felt like he might explode right out of his skin. If Grimmjow didn't drug him and was now confessing to it, then what was going on? What was he going to say?

Ah, so many questions and only one blue-haired, ridiculously infuriating sex god to answer them.

"Alright, alright," Grimmjow held his hands up in mock surrender, a slightly manic grin forming on his face, replacing his frown. "How about I just put this simply, yeah? Spell it out for you?"

"Please," Ichigo gritted out from between his teeth.

"Okay, Ichigo, what I'm about to say may sound insane, but just go with it," Grimmjow stopped, taking a deep breath and step closer to the orangette. "All those Greek myths they teach us in school; they're real. Gods and goddesses, they all exist. In fact, my mom's one, means I'm half and half, a demigod, and you're one too."

Ichigo relaxed slightly, exhaling a good bit of air.

"Dude, that's kind of a lame joke, to be honest," he said, rolling his eyes and unclenching his fists.

_Strike one for Grimmjow: Blackmailing him with his mother's ring.  
><em>  
><em>Strike two? Having a really bad sense of humor.<br>_  
>Honestly, this prank wasn't funny <em>at all<em>.

"I'm not joking," Grimmjow then said, his smile faltering as a more composed, serious expression overcame his face, his lips pressing into a thin line. Ichigo looked up into the sapphire eyes and frowned.

Ichigo had always had a thing for spotting liars a mile away, and what usually gave them away were their eyes. But Grimmjow's...

They weren't the eyes of a liar.

Oh, well now most of Grimmjow's behavior made sense. Especially when Ichigo thought of the first time he had ever seen the man, jumping into a pool on a motorcycle while wearing a toga.

His heart swelled up in genuine pity and he was conscious of the fact that his face had softened as his chest began to ache. It really was a shame, a true and honest tragedy. Shakespeare could suck it, this was possibly the saddest thing he had ever seen in his life.

"I believe you," and before Ichigo realized what he was doing, he had placed a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed it gently, reassuringly.

"You do?" Grimmjow asked, his tone betraying that he was doubtful of that.

"Of course," Ichigo smiled warmly. "Now, do you have someone I can call, someone that can come pick you up?"

"Ichigo, what are you talking about?" Grimmjow's brows knitted together in his obvious bewilderment.

"Don't worry about it," Ichigo let go of the man's shoulder to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. "I believe you," he assured the blunette, knowing that it was important that the other man understood that.

Ichigo lifted his phone, scrolling through the contacts. He stopped once he was about three-quarters of the way down the list. He and Grimmjow didn't really run in the same circles, so he had absolutely had no idea who the guy was friends with, hence he didn't really have an inkling of whom to call.

But he did have Orihime Inoue's number, as she had given it to him last semester when they were in class just in case either of them missed class and needed notes. And she would have Ulquiorra Cifer's number, who was in the same fraternity as Grimmjow. That ought to get him somewhere.

Satisfied, Ichigo pressed the 'call' button on his cell phone.

"Ichigo, I-," Grimmjow started, but he cut him off.

"I'm just going to make a quick phone call, Grimmjow. Why don't you sit down?" Ichigo scratched the back of his neck and lifted the phone up to his ear, the dial tone faint.

He really didn't know if that was the right thing to say or not, having never really been around _unstable _people before, but he figured that as long as he got into contact with someone close enough to the guy, then he could ask what to do until they got there to pick him up.

Grimmjow looked like he wanted to say something else, but a shrill trilling sound that rang throughout the entire library stopped him.

Puzzled, Ichigo looked all around the huge atrium for the source of the noise when suddenly a chipper voice alerted him to the presence of someone high above him, on the second level balcony.

"Oh, Ichigo! I...I didn't know you were here! And Grimmjow too, how nice!" a girl dressed all in black and with long locks of burnt sienna hair leaned over the balcony railing, waving a hand holding a cell phone...that was ringing. It was also notable that she was wearing sunglasses, inside.

Ichigo's mouth opened in surprise and looked at his phone and back to the girl, who was still smiling and waving, then snapped his phone shut.

"Orihime?" he asked.

"Hold on a second, I'll be right there!" she called and Ichigo heard the pattering of feet on the hardwood floor, hushed voices, and then loud thuds. Not ten seconds later, both Orihime and Ulquiorra, who was also wearing all black, appeared on the staircase nearest to them, the latter being forcibly dragged along. If he hadn't been in a mild state of shock, Ichigo would have found it funny that the seemingly frail girl was pulling the stoic male around like he was some sort of rag doll.

"Ichigo, Grimm, w-what a coincidence! I had no idea!" Orihime smiled brightly, snatching the sunglasses off of her head and revealing her almost too wide storm gray eyes.

Lying eyes.

Ichigo was about to ask just _why _both she and Ulquiorra were in the library, as he was more than a little suspicious, when it hit him.

It was now so obvious.

Clearly, Orihime and Ulquiorra followed Grimmjow around when he went out by 'himself' and made sure that nothing went awry. It let him feel independent and like he wasn't defined by his condition, but really everything was under control.

What nice people.

"Oh yeah, I never expected to run into you guys here," Ichigo offered, playing along. He chuckled a little bit in an effort to look believable.

"Well, you know Ulqui. He loves to get ahead on his studies, isn't that right?" Orihime nudged the man at her side with her elbow.

"Yes, that's right. Over."

Orihime looked mortified for a second.

"Oh, are we not doing that anymore?" Ulquiorra asked monotonously.

Ichigo ignored the weird comment, and glanced to his right to see Grimmjow's face a perfect expression of barely suppressed irritation and vexation. If it had been any other kind of situation, he would have thought that it was a rather attractive on the blunette.

"Orihime, can I talk to you for a second?" he questioned softly, putting his cell phone back into his pocket.

"Oh, um, yeah, sure," Orihime smiled hesitantly, walking to the side while Ichigo ignored the almost vicious emerald glare that was being sent his way as he followed the auburn-haired girl. They stopped just short of the bookcase, a good fifteen feet away from Grimmjow and Ulquiorra.

"So I know why you're here," Ichigo started, but was silenced when Orihime let out a squeak of what he guessed was surprise.

"You do?" she asked.

"Yeah...look, I think Grimmjow forgot to, uh, take his...medication or something," Ichigo lowered his voice as he said this, leaning in so that Orihime could hear him. "He was telling me that gods were real and that he _was_ one."

"_Oh_...is that what he said?"

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, as Orihime didn't look concerned or startled by the information, but rather she looked...a little put out. Her brows knit together and she looked down at the floor as if she was thinking rather hard about something.

"Hey Ichigo."

He turned at the sound of his name being called to see that it was Grimmjow, who was holding something rather small in his hand.

"Think fast," was all he said before he launched it into the air at Ichigo.

Now, having relatively good hand-eye coordination, he was able to catch the thing that had been thrown at him with ease. However, after that he immediately dropped it to the floor where it landed with a small _ting_, and he clutched his hand as he hissed in pain.

"What the...," he trailed off, looking at his right hand where he had first caught the thing and there was an already very red mark on the center of his palm, like the thing had burned him. Bewildered, he looked from his hand to the ground where his mother's ring lay innocently on the hardwood floor.

"Hah, you see," Grimmjow smirked triumphantly. "I'm not crazy. Your mother's ring burned you because you've only consumed the ambrosia, but not the nectar, so you're not a full demigod yet. _Now _do you believe me?"

"You bastard, what the hell did you do to it?" Ichigo ignored the slight pain in his hand as he curled his fists into the blue button down shirt that covered Grimmjow's chest.

"Tch. I didn't do anything," the blunette lifted his hands to encircle Ichigo's wrists, as if to push him off, when Ulquiorra spoke.

"Not here, younger brother."

"Why not? Good time as any to show this kid just who he's dealing with," Grimmjow face split into the most sadistic, cruel smile Ichigo had seen to date, like a serrated knife.

"There are video cameras," Ulquiorra sighed.

"Oh, yeah...," Grimmjow said as if he had just reached that conclusion himself and dropped his hands to rest on Ichigo's chest.

Okay, at any other time, Ichigo would've undoubtedly enjoyed this for any kind of sexual undercurrent, but the aura Grimmjow was emitting...it was menacing, like nothing he had ever felt before.

And the weird thing was, was that Ichigo wasn't scared. He was _excited _by it.

Let's just say this is the most interesting thing that might have ever happened in Ichigo's completely normal and boring life. And in fact, he had to admit, if it was possible, that Grimmjow looked even more delicious like this, like he was almost...bloodthirsty. The lethal looks and personality were a great combination.

All Ichigo needed was a spoon.

But if that was to either eat a delectable Grimmjow sundae or scoop himself off of the floor after he was beaten into the ground, he wasn't sure.

Maybe he was crazy himself, to want to throw down with a clearly delusional (but undeniably sexy) man.

"Stop that, both of you, right now!" Orihime's voice cut into Ichigo's thoughts, and he was startled when she worked her way in between the both of them, pushing him away with strength he didn't know someone so small could hold.

"And you! Stop encouraging them," she rounded on Ulquiorra and Ichigo had to blink as he thought he saw the dark-haired man almost looking...remorseful?

"Now, let's do this the proper way," Orihime insisted then, tapping a fist into her open palm. "Ichigo, would you care to join me and the others at the Kappa Alpha Lambda house for dinner Thursday night?"

"Why?" Ichigo asked suspiciously, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, let's just say that Grimm was _trying _to tell you something, but didn't do a very good job of it," she said, sending an apologetic look the blunette's way, who just "tch"-ed in response.

"Fine," Ichigo said ungraciously, but then he rounded on Grimmjow, pointing a finger at him. "But you had better have fixed my mother's ring by then."

"Make me."

"You little-"

"Okay! Well I guess we'll see you on Thursday, Ichigo! We'll just be going now," Orihime laughed and grabbed both Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's arms after picking up Ichigo's ring off of the floor and started dragging them to the staircase, muttering something about walkie-talkies.

Ichigo just stood there, glaring at the air like an idiot, wondering why the ring hadn't burned Orihime's hand.

Screw blackmail, this had now just become plain torture.

Honestly, what kind of gods were out there that would put a delicious piece of man meat like Grimmjow out there and then make him completely psychotic? It was like eating the best steak of your life, only to find out that now you had Mad Cow's disease.

It just wasn't fair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hello there! :D Okay, so updates should be coming out a little bit faster than usual in the next two to three weeks, as finals are OVER. Praise be to God. But then it's back to school for the summer session. : (

Oh and perhaps it would be fair to give everyone a warning that this story is not going to turn into any kind of epic, save the world thing. No, no, it's more of a college fic with Greek mythology thrown in. Honestly, I'm not confident enough in my writing skills to be writing something akin to Percy Jackson or Hercules or any of those things. So, yeah, no Aizen as Hades trying to control the world and whatever. But the gods and other immortal beings will show up! Okay, I'm stopping now.

And as always, THANKS a bajillion times over for those that reviewed, or added this to their favorites/alerts. :D

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

Quote belongs to Ovid.


	4. In Which There is Gloom and Doom

**τέταρτο κεφάλαιο:**

**In Which There is Gloom and Doom**

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><p><em>You have been trapped in the inescapable net of ruin by your own want of sense.<em>

* * *

><p>It would seem that Ichigo's bad luck continued to pervade him until the following day, which would be Thursday. The day that he was supposed to meet Orihime and Ulquiorra and the crazy at the Kappa Alpha Lambda house. This is to be expected of course, because, let's face it, you're amused by his misfortune, aren't you? Don't even try and deny it.<p>

But Ichigo? Not so much.

He was holed up in his apartment, alone as Shuuhei and Renji were both at work for the day and he had off. He had been trying to think of what he could photograph for the back-to-school issue of KU Weekly, but he had been coming up blank. Everything had been _done_already and it was frustrating him to no end, just as everything else in his life was.

Not only that, but he realized his, or the school's rather, camera was _still _at the KAL house. Possibly (probably) still sitting on a specific someone's dresser...

So he had done what anyone would've done in that situation, the only thing he could do. And that was, of course, to take out the secret pint-sized Ben & Jerry's Half Baked reserved for emergencies from behind the ice tray in the freezer and flip on a really bad made-for-TV movie on the channel that was supposed to be for post-menopausal women.

And he dared anyone to make fun of him or call him a girl or whatever, and, hey, don't knock it 'till you've tried it. It's pretty cathartic, good for nursing wounded egos and irritation due to cocky bastards with eyes bluer than the ocean.

He watched, spooning the delicious frozen treat into his mouth, as the two main characters, a girl and a boy, of course, as they were confessing their love in the middle of some street, in the pouting rain.

Typical.

_"B-but Kohaku, I just can't. I can't be with you...like this!" _the girl screamed, clenching her fists by her side, tears running down her face.

_"Why not, Mizuki? Why can't you?" _The boy surged forward, grabbing the girl's wrists and clasping them to his chest.

_"Because...I'm afraid."  
><em>  
><em>"Afraid? Of what? Tell me."<br>_  
><em>"I'm afraid of...falling, falling for you."<br>_  
><em>"Mizuki...you don't have to be afraid anymore, because if you fall, I'll be there to catch you." <em>There was a pause, and then the two lovers mashed together in a rather sloppy kiss as an American rock song began to play.

Swallowing a particularly satisfying brownie bite from the pint of ice cream, Ichigo groaned, rolling his eyes. Even for a movie that was practically made to be ridiculously sappy, this was terrible.

But before he could stop his traitorous mind, it was already imagining a certain crazed blunette feeding him lines like that.

They would be in some sort of park...no! They would be in a romantic Italian cafe, sharing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs a la Lady and the Tramp, and Grimmjow would look straight into his eyes and reach for his hand across the table and Ichigo would blush, looking down at the table.

_"I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore."  
><em>  
>And then Ichigo would look up and lean in so that they would only be inches apart and his honey-brown eyes would meet Grimmjow's forever blue.<p>

_"Then don't."  
><em>  
>And then...!<p>

...

"That's from _Twilight_," Ichigo realized aloud, eyes widening so much they were in danger of falling out of their sockets. Throwing his spoon into the now empty ice cream carton, he scrambled for the remote and hurriedly changed the channel to a re-broadcast of an MMA fight and untucked his feet from underneath him to rest on the coffee table.

There, that was much...manlier.

Besides, it's not even like he wanted Grimmjow to say any of those things to him, his imagination just became a little overactive when he ate ice cream.

Yeah, that's it.

Sighing and resting his head against the couch, Ichigo watched the two (unattractive) men thrash about in the caged ring through lidded eyes, his breathing gradually slowing and deepening.

What was it about lazy days like today, when he didn't have to do anything until much later, that made him want to take a nap even though he had just woken up maybe two hours ago? He really should be working on finding something to report on for the paper...

Eh, what was a few more hours anyway?

Exhaling softly, Ichigo let his eyelids flutter closed and just as consciousness began to fade from him...his cell phone rang, startling him from his near slumber so much he jumped nearly a foot off of the couch, eyes snapping open.

"Someone better be dead," he mumbled underneath his breath, huffing loudly before snatching his phone off its perch on the coffee table. He flipped it open and held it to his ear, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Yeah?" he answered the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ichigo! Please tell me you don't have anything to do tonight!" the desperate voice of a female shrieked over the phone. It was so loud that Ichigo held the phone a foot away from his ear before bringing it back. There was not a doubt as to who would be screeching like a dying bird like that.

"What do you want, Riruka?"

"Just answer the damn question, are you free tonight?" Riruka sounded even more agitated than usual, which was saying something, considering she usually acted like she hadn't gotten laid in _years_. Especially when she drooled over any even mildly attractive customers that came into Shunsui's.

"Nah, I have something to do tonight. Why?" Ichigo smirked to himself as he heard the redhead over the phone give a rather high-pitched, wordless yell of frustration and he held the phone away from his ear yet again, lest his eardrums be reduced to nothing but a bloody mess. Once he heard heavy breathing over the speaker, he returned it.

"I can't believe this! Yukio got fired today after being caught for the _millionth _time playing his stupid video games in the back room, and so now we're short one for the night shift, and _everyone _is busy, so that means I'm going to have to pick up the damn slack!"

"That sucks," Ichigo sighed, reclining into his couch once more. There was no way he was going into work that day, not when he worked his poor little fingers to the bone in that wretched place every other day of the week.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating just a little, but he really wasn't in the mood to deal with cheapskates who left dollar tips and customers that complained that they wanted lemon _in _the water, not on the rim of the glass and _god _could he please get it right?

"What_ever_," Riruka huffed before Ichigo heard a soft click, a sign that she had hung up on him. Giggling (masculinely), Ichigo snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto the coffee table before laying down on the uneven couch. He curled up onto his side and tucked his hands under his head before closing his eyes and giving in to the laziness that permeated his entire body.

* * *

><p>When Ichigo was awoken by the same sound of his phone vibrating against the faux wood of the cheap living room table, he was startled to see when he flipped it open that not only had he been sleeping for <em>three <em>hours, but that the number calling him was blocked.

Frowning heavily and trying to shake the fuzziness from his brain, Ichigo held the damn thing up to his ear.

"Hullo?" he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hello Ichigo. I'm sorry, were you just asleep?"

The smooth voice that filtered over the speaker of the phone had Ichigo's eyes narrowing in displeasure, a miserable sinking feeling stirring in his belly.

"Yeah, actually, I was," he answered through clenched teeth. He heard a low, amused chuckle on the other end.

"It's rather late for you to be sleeping. Did you have the day off?" His voice was pleasant, colloquial, like they were just having a very nice, normal chat.

"Why the hell do you care? What do you want?" Ichigo snapped, standing up from the couch, his free hand curling into a fist by his side.

"I will take that as a 'yes'." Another chuckle. "I was just calling to see if you wanted to meet me at the Starbucks around the corner from your apartment. I'm very lonely."

Ichigo bit back his impulsive retort of 'Go fuck yourself' and took a deep breath.

He knew that no matter how much he didn't want to meet the irritating man at Starbucks, he had no option. He could never go back and erase what had happened, and how that caused the man to have something that he wanted to forget was ever there in the first place, that he never wanted anyone to see. The fact that the man had it made him sick to his stomach. Seriously, _anyone _but him.

"When?" Ichigo asked, his tone terse and chilled to the bone.

"Now would be preferable, but don't rush on my account."

"Fine."

* * *

><p>Ichigo purposefully took ten minutes to brush his teeth. And five minutes to comb through his unruly hair. And twenty minutes to put on his flip-flops. Then he took the long way to the Starbucks, circling around the block instead of walking the straight route, which still only took him about ten minutes.<p>

The corporate coffee shop was located in a small shopping center that was set up in the shape of a square, and it sat in the northern corner, right next to an automat (you know, where all the food is in vending machines?). And of course, right between the two places were three of Karakura's worst, in his opinion at least.

Ichigo really hoped they didn't see him, but considering that he would have to walk right by them to go into the Starbucks, that was just wishful thinking. However, he put his head down and picked up his pace, hoping that the three would be too busy talking about their fixies that they wouldn't even notice him, but this just served to make his bright orange and oh so recognizable hair even more obvious.

Honestly, why did he have to be so damn desirable?

"Oh, Ichigo! What a nice surprise," a tenor voice called out to him just as he rounded the corner to turn into the coffee shop. Holding back a sigh and looking up from the ground, Ichigo met the curious eyes of three males leaning against the wall between the automat and Starbucks, their identical bikes lined up next to them.

"Oh, hey Shinji," he greeted, forcing a small smile onto his face.

The blonde was in between a freakishly tall brunette with a bandana around his neck and a pink-haired slender, effeminate man with trendy white frames, but he left them to walk up to Ichigo with that strangely large grin on his face.

Shinji was wearing a light mint green, v-neck with an owl on the front that matched the tattoo on his upper forearm, tight white shorts, formerly white converse Chuck Taylor's that had been colored in with various colored sharpies, and several multi-colored beaded bracelets on his wrists that Ichigo may have been a little jealous of, but just a little.

Typical hipster.

"So, how's life?" Shinji asked a tad bit creepily, placing his hands on his hips and leaning forward a little.

"Fine," Ichigo answered noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders.

"I like your hair ever since it's been growing out, very ironic mullet, ne?"

Ichigo's right hand subconsciously flew up to his bright orange locks. He hadn't had a haircut in a few months, he just hadn't had the time, but he thought it looked decent. Yeah, maybe the front section of hair still spiked up a little and the back reached the base of his neck, but a mullet?

"Are you still taking photography classes this year?" Shinji questioned, moving on.

"Yeah," he replied shortly, glancing towards the coffee shop and looking for a familiar head of dark hair through the windows, hoping that the blonde would take the hint.

"Yeah, same here. I've been using my fisheye to do some still life's. I posted them on Tumblr, if you want to see-"

"I'll take a look," Ichigo interrupted, looking back at the coffee shop. He knew that he was trying to take as much time as possible before he met up with the caller in the place, but he didn't want to think of what might happen if he kept him waiting too long.

"Cool bro...,so I heard something about you yesterday..." Shinji trailed off, giving Ichigo a meaningful look with his strange grin and cocked eyebrow, making the orangette frown.

"What?" Ichigo deadpanned. He didn't even want to know what rumours might be circling about him, and who may have started them.

"Well, my friends, Nnoi and Szay are in Kappa Alpha-

_Oh dear gods, please no.  
><em>  
>"And they said that it looked like you were getting pretty cozy with one of their fraternity brothers at that big shindig Monday night," Shinji wiggled his eyebrows and Ichigo mentally groaned in frustration. The blonde may act like he didn't care about being all 'mainstream' or whatever, but he was certainly quite the little gossip whore.<p>

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ichigo muttered, turning on his heel to stalk towards Starbucks' door. He heard Shinji whine, but call out a soft 'see you in photography, then' before he nearly threw the shop's door open, storming inside.

Looking around the decently sized shop, he didn't automatically see whom he was looking for and it wasn't until he rounded the store counter that he saw a tall, lanky man reclining in a wooden chair. Ebony hair fell over his shoulders as he slightly hunched over to scan his dark eyes across the pages of a thick book in his hands.

It would seem that the man had some sort of sixth sense because as soon as Ichigo took one step towards him, he looked up, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his thin lips.

"Ichigo," he greeted, gesturing with a hand to the seat across from him. Ichigo swallowed harshly, dragging his feet over to the chair and dropping into it, his eyes very nearly glaring a hole into the man's head.

"Shukuro," he mocked, nearly sneering as Shukuro Tsukishima placed a bookmark into the crease of his book before closing it. Then he carefully placed the book onto the table as it were a precious thing, and Ichigo had no doubt that the man had more love for books more than anything else in the entire universe, and then grasped the cappuccino porcelain cup in front of him with his thumb and forefinger, bringing it to his lips.

Talk about s-s-s-l-l-l-o-o-o-w-w-w motion.

It was almost as if Shukuro purposefully dragged out each and every one of his movements just to annoy poor Ichigo, and it was working. Not that he could say anything about it, considering he had done the very same thing to postpone coming here for as long as possible.

Shukuro placed the cup back onto the table tenderly, like it might break before raising his dark, dull eyes to meet Ichigo's own.

"I'm glad you decided to meet with me, Ichigo. I have missed you since we met at your apartment two nights ago," he tilted his head a bit, his tone lilting as much as his ever dry personality would allow.

"Wish I could say the feeling is mutual," Ichigo grit out, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to someone who has..." Shukuro shifted a bit, reaching one spindly hand into his back pocket, withdrawing it to reveal a circular disk. A DVD. "This?"

Ichigo felt his face flush with a mixture of outrage and shame as he saw that the disk had been written on in black sharpie, the only words being his name and a date from about a month ago. He fought back the urge to growl and settled for scowling instead. He had known that Shukuro had it, but it didn't stop him from being any less furious.

"I know that you wouldn't anyone to see it, so don't fret, Ichigo. I'm not going to show anyone."

Somehow, Ichigo seriously doubted _that_.

"Oh, is that so?" he asked venomously, despite knowing the fact that if he were to piss off Shukuro enough then the man could release the contents of that DVD to the right people and then at least the next few years of Ichigo's young life would be _ruined_.

"Yes, I don't want anyone to see it either, I care for you too much for that," Shukuro reached with his free hand across the table, resting it when it was within inches of Ichigo's forearm that was still flush with his chest.

"We went out for two weeks, Shukuro," Ichigo said bitterly.

"I was always a quality over quantity kind of man," Shukuro said, a brief glint of amusement lighting up his otherwise lifeless dark eyes. "And you, Ichigo, are certainly quality."

"If you 'care' for me so much, then why am I here? Why are you blackmailing me into meeting you at fucking Starbucks?"

Several people turned around at Ichigo's hissed but rather loud comment, but after a vicious glare from the orangette, they quickly went back to their scrabble games and crossword puzzles and potential novels being written on Macbooks. Per usual, Shukuro showed no emotion at Ichigo's outburst, just tucking the DVD back into his pocket. Ichigo had a fleeting idea of tackling the tall man and breaking the thing into two.

However, Shukuro was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. There would be more than one copy. Hell, the thing was probably backed up on some secret government server somewhere.

"I do not understand what you are talking about, Ichigo. I simply asked if you would be kind enough to meet me here, and you did, because you have the same feelings for me as I do for you," Shukuro answered as if it were _the_most obvious thing in the world.

"No, I _don't_, you're so delusional," Ichigo's anger got a hold of his mouth once more, leaving him breathless with frustration and indignation.

"Perhaps you do not realize it now, but you will in time, Ichigo. All in due time."

Seriously, Shukuro was certifiably mental. Call the men dressed in white with syringes full of sedatives and straight jackets and one of those white vans and tote him off the nearest mental ward, pronto.

Ugh, it seemed that Ichigo always attracted the crazy ones. Cute... but crazy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **IT. IS. SIX in the morning. I stayed up all night writing this. And I am so sorry that it's so short, and mostly just a set-up for the next one, especially after a week, BUT I _promise _the next one will be up much sooner. Definitely before Wednesday and it WILL have Grimmjow and Ichigo interaction in it, promise promise!

Oh, and I think that I can honestly say that to this day, writing a Hipster!Shinji is the only true stroke of genius I have ever had. And I really don't hate the hipsters, they're alright in my book, but it's just too funny making fun of them.

And, as always, you guys are amazing. This is already my most favorited story, and that means so much to me. :D

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. I also don't own Twilight or Starbucks. Another thing I do not own is a fixy. I am too MAINSTREAM and drive a car!

Quote belongs to Aeschylus. Can you sense a theme here?


	5. In Which Everything is Explained Kind Of

**κεφάλαιο πέντε:**

**In Which Everything is Explained, Kind of**

* * *

><p><em>The will of the everlasting gods is not turned suddenly.<em>

* * *

><p>Ichigo left the Starbucks not a minute later, after Shukuro had dismissed him with a wave of his hand and a "I will call you soon." It infuriated him to no end, how arrogant the man was. And the thing is, is that he didn't even pull it off.<p>

See, some people can wear hubris almost like a second skin and it makes them all the more attractive, because it works for them. They don't try too hard, it all seems so natural, like they were born for people to worship them and you don't even mind doing so.

Yes, Ichigo didn't know anyone like that at _all_.

But with Shukuro, it was so plainly obvious that he was trying to pull off the aloof, all-knowing and he just...failed at it. Ichigo could appreciate a good villain, but his dark-haired ex was just plain annoying. His arrogance grated on his nerves in an entirely unpleasant way, because he just tried far too hard, like a bad actor.

Walking down the street, Ichigo pulled out his phone, knowing that it was time he call his father. He did this every other day at least, in the afternoons when the clinic was the least busy. But before you start to think that this may be strange for a nineteen year old male to call his father so often, let's set the scene.

Ichigo had basically been raised by his father his entire life and it wasn't until Ichigo was nine years old that he found out why that was. Isshin Kurosaki had married a woman straight out of university. Masaki. Now Ichigo had already known this, as his father loved to tell tales about his wife, but he had never gotten a straight answer as a young child as to just why he didn't have a mother like all of his classmates.

Where was she? Where was his mother?

There came a time when Isshin supposed that he couldn't hide the truth from his son any longer.

Ichigo learned that his mother had given birth to him not a year after she and Isshin had married. It was only three months later that she went missing.

And it had been just him and his father ever since.

It was silly to think that his mother might be alive out there somewhere, that was just plain stupid. She was dead, obviously, and Ichigo felt sad about it, of course, but it wasn't terribly devastating. He had never known the woman, though his father had shown him pictures (not including the life size poster that the man kept in their house) and had even given his son Masaki's ring, claiming that it was too small for his manly fingers.

There had always been a small part of Ichigo that wished he had had just a little more time with his mother, just so that he could know what it was like. So that he could have something to miss, instead of feeling like there was a hole somewhere in his heart that ached for her presence. Sometimes when he was growing up, he had wished that he could have the tender, nurturing love of a parent instead of the silliness and roundhouse kicks to the face coupled with bouts of seriousness that was his father's version of parenting.

Despite that, he and his father had a relatively good relationship and since Ichigo had moved out, he had felt terrible for leaving his old man alone in their house, though he would never admit it.

And this is why he would call his father so often.

The phone only rang once before someone picked up, and a loud greeting rang out over the speaker.

"Ichigoooo, my son!"

"Hey, Dad."

"How are you doing today, my favorite son?" his father asked him.

"I'm your only son," Ichigo rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a grin as he walked back to his apartment.

"And that's why you're my favorite!" Isshin exclaimed, and Ichigo could just picture him pointing a finger in the air, exuberant smile upon his face.

"Whatever," Ichigo turned the corner onto the street his apartment building was on, the conversation he had with Grimmjow the day before flitting across his mouth. Why did he feel the need to tell his father about it? Because if what the blunette had said was true, then that meant that either his father or his mother was a god? But you can't really just come out and ask your father if he or his likely deceased wife was actually an immortal god of myth, can you?

"Hey, dad, do you know if...if we have any relatives from Greece?" Ichigo wasn't sure if this was the right thing to ask, or if it would give him any answers as to why Grimmjow thought he was a 'demigod' of Greek mythology, but he figured it couldn't be a bad place to start. It was a harmless question, easily brushed off if asked why he wanted to know.

"No, Ichigo, I don't think so..." Isshin trailed off, sounding thoughtful, but not exactly serious. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just the other day, someone told me I looked Greek," Ichigo winced at the lie, because even though he sounded believable saying it, who in their right mind would ever say that he looked Greek? With his bright orange hair and obviously Asian facial features, he looked like one of the Scottish-Korean's from the Starburst commercials. You know, the juicy contradictions?

After that, Isshin had gone into great detail about a woman who had given birth in the clinic two days prior, making Ichigo slightly queasy. Sure, childbirth was a miracle and all that, but the way it happened gave him the shivers.

Ichigo got off the phone with his father as soon as he stepped back into his apartment, seeing that Shuuhei and Renji were still off at work. That was good, considering he still had to shower and change before heading off to the crazy house, er, KAL fraternity house. And while he didn't care _a lot_ about what his roommates thought of him, he didn't really like to propagate the gay male stereotype that he spent hours making sure he looked presentable. Which he did.

Stepping into the smallest bedroom in the apartment, his because he paid twenty thousand yen less then the others did in rent money, he sat on his bed and stared at his open closet.

After about ten minutes of looking at his pitiful wardrobe and almost giving up and calling to cancel, he decided to go with what he always wore, white-washed skinny jeans that stuck to him like superglue and a vintage, distressed short-sleeved v-neck , this one being a lovely light shade of blue. Lately he seemed to have an affinity for that color...

He laid out his clothes on the bed for him to put on after he dried himself off and went into the bathroom, adjusting the water as hot as possible, just the way he liked it. He stripped and stepped under the steaming stream of water, a shudder ripping through him as the heat of the water burned a slight bit at first, but after a minute he became used to it and relaxed a bit.

Wasn't it Sylvia Plath who said that there must be a great many problems that a hot bath can't cure, but she didn't know of many?

Smart lady.

There was always something about the warmth of hot water that relaxed his body and mind simultaneously, everything going numb. It seemed when he was in this state of relaxation he did his best thinking, too.

What was it Orihime wanted to talk to him about? It obviously had something to do with the nonsense Grimmjow had been spouting yesterday, but had they just been talking in code, making fun of him maybe, or...had they been serious? Did Grimmjow really believe he was a 'demigod'?

There had been a moment yesterday when Ichigo had truly believed that the poor thing had been delusional, a victim of displaced chemicals and maybe a bad childhood. It had made his chest ache in a way that wasn't unfamiliar to him, because he had felt sorrow before, but it was definitely different. He didn't think he had ever felt true pity before that day. He had wanted to scoop Grimmjow into his arms and pet him like a housecat and coo to him that everything was going to be alright.

But then that feeling had vanished when he'd seen, and felt, what the bastard had done to his mother's ring. What _had_ he done to it? Something that only affected him, obviously, since Orihime had been able to pick it up.

Ichigo shook his head, spraying shampoo foam onto the shower walls as he worked the sweet-smelling stuff into his hair.

He would just have to find out, he supposed.

Because there was no way what Grimmjow had told him was true. No way.

* * *

><p>Ichigo ended up walking to the fraternity house, a good twenty-minute walk away, but luckily he had brought his mp3 player with him and time seemed to pass by much faster than it normally would have as he walked along whistling to Grizzly Bear's "Knife".<p>

The KAL house was just as impressive as he remembered that, and now he could in the sunset's light that that _was_ a golden apple underneath the Greek letters. He wondered what that was about, before stepping up to the porch and knocking twice on the double doors.

The door was answered almost immediately, but not by anyone Ichigo was expecting. Instead, there was a tall man with long, ebony hair and a strangely large grin standing there, his body taking up the entire large doorframe. Ichigo didn't like him on sight, he was just plain _creepy_, especially that smile that just made him look like one of those crazed clowns that had scared Ichigo as a child.

He then remembered that he had actually seen the man before him earlier that day, with Shinji in front of Starbucks. This must be one of the friends the blonde had that was in the fraternity.

"Can I help you?" the man asked with a rather lecherous look in his eyes that wasn't helped any by his frightening smile. Ichigo also noticed that he had full-length arm sleeves and he could make out tattoos on his chest as well from the low cut neckline of his shirt.

"Yeah, I'm here to meet Orihime and-"

If it was possible, the man's grin grew even wider before he cut him off.

"Oh, so _you're _the-"

"Ichigo!"

Startled at another interruption, Ichigo looked past the man to see a burnt sienna head full of hair squeezing its way past the freakishly tall man.

"Oh, hey, Orihime," Ichigo greeted the newcomer.

Orihime was wearing a proper knee-length white skirt and a long-sleeved pink blouse that should've clashed terrible with her hair, but didn't. She had a half happy, half nervous expression on her face and she looked up to the man.

"Thank you Nnoitra, you can go back to your video games with Szayel now," she said with a small smile on her face. Nnoitra just shrugged his shoulders, sending one last slightly lascivious look at Ichigo, whom had to suppress a shudder.

"Whatever you say, pet," he said before stalking off to presumably go back to his 'video games'. Orihime frowned for a brief moment before she turned back to Ichigo, a bright smile appearing instead.

"Oh, please come in!" she said, as if it had just occurred to her. Ichigo gave her a small grin as he stepped into the fraternity house and tried not to remember the last time he had been here. The lust, the ecstasy, the humiliation.

The last time he had not seen the front of the house, only the kitchen and even then he had not been focused on what exactly the place looked like. No, he had been far too pre-occupied for that.

He had to admit it was pretty damn impressive, with a large staircase in the foyer and gray marble flooring. There was a chandelier and flowers on the foyer table, and this was a _frat house_. You were lucky to find air freshener in a fraternity house, let alone fresh Queen Elizabeth roses.

"I'm so glad you came, Ichigo. I was a little worried that..." Orihime trailed off, biting her lip and looking at the floor.

"That," Ichigo hesitated for a second. "That Grimmjow had scared me off yesterday?" he finished for her. She smiled slightly and nodded her head, her bright gray eyes looking eager. Everything was silent for a few moments, in which Orihime shifted her feet nervously and Ichigo desperately tried to think of something to say.

"So, why are you here?" he finally asked, his eyes immediately widening and then smacking his palm to his forehead. "Ah, that's not what I meant."

Orihime let out a nervous giggle.

"I mean, this is a fraternity house...so-"

Luckily for Ichigo, she cut him off before he could further embarrass himself, poor thing.

"Well, I live off-campus in an apartment with my roommate, Nel, but I spend a lot of time with Ulqui and she likes to come here too, so this is basically our second home," Orihime laughed a little, clasping her hands together before her.

"Oh, well that makes sense," Ichigo scratched the back of his head, shuffling his flip-flop clad feet back and forth. Orihime opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by a rather loud slam and an even louder curse as the sound of stomping sounded above them. They both turned to look at the stairs, confused expression on their faces as the cause of the noise appeared at the top of them.

Ichigo felt his mouth go dry, his throat suddenly closing. He briefly wondered if he would always have such visceral reactions to seeing _him_.

Grimmjow was now descending the stairs, bare-chested and wearing black sweatpants, what looked like a gray t-shirt clutched in his hands. And here the orangette thought that he had gotten an eyeful in the darkness of the man's bedroom.

As he got closer, Ichigo could clearly see that his exquisite face was slightly flushed, blossom pink dusting his cheeks in a lovely way, and that there was a slight sheen of sweat all over his body. His pure blue oceanic eyes were bright and the aquatic, bedroom hair was even more mussed than usual, strands sticking out every which way in an endearing way. It made for a beautiful sight, one that somehow reached into Ichigo's chest, tore out his heart and threw it onto the ground where it stomped on the still-beating organ unmercifully.

It was painfully, unbearably obvious what the man had just been doing.

And why would he expect any differently? Grimmjow was obviously a whore, a dirty whore that didn't deserve his attention.

The lie, even though it was just in his mind, left a bad taste in his mouth and so Ichigo tore his eyes away from the blue vision to look back at Orihime, who was giving Grimmjow a rueful look, like you would to a young child that was amusing you with their antics.

"Fuck, princess, I don't know how you stand him," Grimmjow muttered. Ichigo chanced it, and cornered his eyes to look at him once more and met crystalline blue eyes and a smug smirk. Who was he talking about?

"Hello, _Ichigo_. Glad to see you could make it." And dear gods, if it didn't sound like the man was practically purring. How could he act like that towards him when he had just...been doing _that_?

"What were you two arguing about this time?" Orihime asked, sounding almost amused and yet exasperated.

"Fuck if I know, I'm just trying to get my reps done before our _honored guest_-" he pierced Ichigo with his cerulean faze. "-came over, and he comes in and starts bitching about how I need to get a job and blah blah blah," Grimmjow used his t-shirt to wipe some of the sweat of the brow, hopefully oblivious as to how Ichigo's eyes were now glued to where the man's sweatpants hung dangerously off his hips, the bones there gorgeously defined. Ichigo couldn't believe that he had ever put his hands on them.

Orihime giggled, a hand going to cover her mouth. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed at her the slightest bit.

"So glad you think it's funny," he muttered under his breath, and even Ichigo had to stifle a chuckle himself. It was just that suddenly his heart was back in his chest, as if it had never been trampled upon in the first place.

Grimmjow hadn't been knocking boots with some random tramp upstairs, he had been working out and then had obviously got into an argument with someone. Ulquiorra, no doubt.

Not that Ichigo cared, of course. They had only ever had a one-night thing, and that was all it ever would be.

"I see that you have made our guest feel welcome with your graciousness, Grimmjow."

The blunette swore lowly, a scowl crossing his perfect features.

Ulquiorra now stood at the top of the stairs and was making his stately way down them. He was wearing another sweater vest and collared shirt, even though it was August.

"Hello, Ichigo. I am glad that decided to join us and didn't let this Neanderthal," Ulquiorra gestured mildly to Grimmjow as he passed him on the stairs. "Discourage you from doing so."

"Uh, yeah, sure...no problem," Ichigo said, shoving his hands in his pockets, or trying to before he realized his pants were too tight.

Ulquiorra strode forward, placing a hand at the small of Orihime's back and nodding his head in the direction of Ichigo's left.

"Shall we retire to the dining room?" he asked and Ichigo suppressed raising an eyebrow at that. Sometimes he felt as if the green-eyes man spoke as he came from another time-period, another world.

The dining room was painted a soft salmon color, and there were old-fashioned, traditional paintings around the walls with golden frames. They all looked old, as if they could be...original, but that was impossible. Any paintings of this caliber that were original would have been in a museum, not a frat house. Ichigo's eyes flitted across one in particular that captured his attention.

It was of a beautiful woman, with strawberry-blonde hair flowing in the wind on the top of a small hill surrounded by trees while she took aim with a bow and arrow into the sky.

"She's beautiful, huh?" a sensuously raucous voice husked right behind Ichigo's ear, nearly making him jump at the sound, though his heart plummeted up into his throat at the sound that was sure to be the cause of many sleepless nights from now on.

He cautiously turned to face Grimmjow, a suspicious look plastered onto his face, brow furrowed. He took a step back from where the blunette had been standing to his right, noticing that he had put on the gray t-shirt for modesty's sake.

"Who is she supposed to be?" Ichigo asked, genuinely curious. Grimmjow's mouth opened, but an apathetic voice interrupted him before he even began to speak.

"Please sit down, Ichigo, Grimmjow. We have much to discuss," Ulquiorra said as he sat at the one end of the dining room table. It was then that Ichigo noticed said table and his jaw nearly dropped.

There were several gold platters that covered the entire mass of the large dining room table, each filled to the brim with every kind of fruit he knew of, and some he didn't. And each and every last one looked impeccably ripe, every single apple, peach, pear, mango was perfection.

_What kind of frat house was this?_

Ichigo sat across from Orihime, while he noticed out of the corner of his eye Grimmjow sit down at the other end of table, directly across from Ulquiorra. The man then picked off a crimson red apple and viciously bit into it. Ichigo could also see Ulquiorra frowning slightly, the most emotion he had ever seen the nihilistic man express.

"You could not wait, brother?" he asked, to which the blunette just grinned cheekily and took another bite of the apple. Ichigo never knew that eating an apple could look so good...

"Wait, you guys are brothers?" he blurted, looking back and forth between Ulquiorra and Grimmjow...but could you really blame him? The two weren't exactly twins.

"We are half-brothers, we have the same mother," Ulquiorra replied indifferently and Ichigo heard Grimmjow whisper something but he wasn't able to make out what it was, but he assumed it was something insulting because Orihime clasped a hand over her mouth and her eyes crinkled a bit as she desperately tried to hold her laugh in and Ulquiorra visibly bristled.

"Oh...that's nice," Ichigo said, not knowing what he was supposed to say.

"I wish I could say the same," Ulquiorra sighed lightly, turning his emerald gaze back to Ichigo, who felt slightly uncomfortable under it. The orangette shifted in his seat a bit, eyeing a particularly juicy looking peach on the platter before him. They had always been his favorite.

"I will ask you not to eat until you've heard everything we have to say."

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow, but nodded, figuring it was only polite. It seemed like Ulquiorra was going to do most of the talking that night. The aforementioned lifted a flute of what suspiciously looked like the golden liquid Grimmjow had given Ichigo the other night to his lips and slowly sipped from it.

"Tell me, Ichigo, what do you know of the Greek myths and legends?" Ulquiorra questioned once he placed the flute back to the table.

...

Ichigo opened his mouth, but then closed it, and repeated the action several times more. The thing was, as stated before, he knew positively _nothing_ about Greek mythology. He remembered some of his teachers in junior high and high school briefly mentioning it, but he hadn't really been paying attention.

"If I asked you to tell me who Zeus was, would you be able to do so?"

Ichigo hesitated for a second, before shaking his head. The name didn't even ring a bell.

"Aphrodite?"

Again, he shook his head.

"Athena?"

"Apollo?"

"Hephaestus?"

"_What?_ No."

It went on like this for quite a while. Ichigo was getting irritated. He didn't know he had gone there to be subject to a pop quiz. He had only gone to get his ring back.

"Nike?"

"Like the shoes?" he asked, visibly perking up as a name he recognized was said.

"Um, Ulqui, wouldn't it just be best to, uh, tell him?" Orihime suggested. Ichigo silently thanked her.

"Very well," Ulquiorra laced his fingers together before him. "I will simply say that while Grimmjow lacked tact, everything he told you yesterday in the library was true."

Ichigo frowned heavily.

So this was it.

Either these three were pulling an extremely complicated prank on him, something he couldn't see Ulquiorra or Orihime doing, though Grimmjow was a different story. Or they...really believed it.

Seeing Ichigo's reaction, Ulquiorra continued on.

"You are a demigod, the offspring of one human parent and one immortal parent. You have not known this until now because you have not seen your mother since you were three months old."

Ichigo's tenuous control snapped.

"How the _hell_ do you know that?" he asked loudly, his tone dripping with venom and ice. How could Ulquiorra possibly know about his mother? It wasn't exactly something he told everyone. In fact, he was pretty sure that no one in his life knew about it, except for his father.

"Please calm yourself down and stop making a spectacle of yourself, Ichigo. I know that your mother abandoned you-"

"Ulquiorra," a growl sounded down from the end of the table and Ichigo turned his head to see Grimmjow pinning the ebony-haired man down with an icy blue glare. "Watch your mouth."

Ichigo felt his jaw slacken a little. It was only a little thing, especially when you considered the fact that the man had blackmailed him with his mother's ring, but still it gave him a slight fluttering feeling in the pit of his belly.

"Ah, yes, I forgot you have something of an Oedipus complex, Grimmjow."

"Oi, don't compare me with the likes of that pervert!" Grimmjow yelled across the table. Ulquiorra merely sighed once more and turned back to Ichigo.

"As I was saying, I know your mother _left _you when you were three-"

"She didn't leave me, she disappeared and was most likely murdered, bastard," Ichigo said through gritted teeth. The dark-haired man wasn't fazed.

"Please allow me to finish before you speak, Ichigo. Now, I know your mother left you when you were only three months old because I have met her. In fact, I spoke with her last week."

Ichigo could hear his own teeth grinding against each other.

"Hey, Ichigo," Grimmjow's voice drifted over to him and his eyes cornered over to meet that blue gaze. "Listen to him, yeah?"

The orangette just gave a short nod. This was weird, so weird, to listen to this man who was practically a stranger and yet managed to drive him insane with both frustration and more lust than he would ever admit. But he felt like he could trust Grimmjow, now that he knew he couldn't be completely psychotic.

"So...you're saying my mother," Ichigo swallowed forcefully past the dry lump in his throat. "You're saying my mother is still...alive?"

"Yes, she is, and will always be, because she is a goddess."

Ichigo's head swam for a moment or two and he closed his eyes. It wasn't until a soft voice called his name that he opened them, somehow finding the light of the dining room much too bright.

Orihime was looking at him with concerned storm gray eyes, and she reached a hand out hesitantly across the platters of fruit to place it over his that lay on the table.

"It's okay, Ichigo. It's a lot to take in," she said comfortingly, and Ichigo smiled weakly back at her. Both Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were silent.

"Prove it," Ichigo said quietly after a long while.

"I'm sorry, Ichigo, but could you be a little more specific?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Prove that you're a god, demigod, whatever the fuck, just do it," he spat out, raising his head to stare directly into the man's jade green eyes full of apathy.

"Ah, I see. Well, I suppose that's only fair. However, I don't think a demonstration from myself or Grimmjow would be appropriate. 'Hime, if you would do the honors?"

Orihime looked confused for a brief second, but then recognition lit up her face and she lifted her hand off of Ichigo's.

"Oh, right!" she said, her hands disappearing under the table to presumable reach into her pocket. When they returned, Ichigo saw that she held two small blue hair pins in her hand. He bit his lip to keep from asking if that was really it. "Well, um, here it goes..." she trailed off, fastening one pin on the left side of her head, and then the other one on the opposite.

For a few seconds, nothing happened and Ichigo frowned, but then he spotted something at the center of Orihime's chest. It was almost like there was...glitter there, in the air right before her and it spread like a living thing, shimmering air passing over her body and for several moments it was if he couldn't see her, only her outline and the shimmering air. And then, she wasn't there.

Well, she was, but...it was almost a different version of herself, as if everything about the girl had been taken and intensified, perfected. Her burnt sienna hair shone brighter and looked like silk as it seemed to almost float in the wind, though Ichigo was sure there was none. Her eyes were almost a sparkling silver instead of storm-gray and her skin was positively flawless. Not only this, but her white skirt and pink blouse had shifted into a flowing lavender gown that Ichigo knew had to be in Ancient Greek fashion.

In short, she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

Orihime smiled bashfully, fiddling with the diaphanous fabric of her dress and for a reason he himself wasn't exactly sure of, Ichigo chanced a glance over at Grimmjow to see what his reaction to her transformation was, but instead he found twin pools of cyan looking straight at him and was momentarily breathless. Yes, Orihime was stunning, beautiful, but she still had nothing on just those eyes that felt like some kind of drug running through his system.

Maybe he could learn to get over the whole blackmail thing.

"As you can see, Orihime has just shed her gigai, which is a false body we all have that cases our true forms for when we walk among humans. I have one on at this very moment, as does Grimmjow, and you do too, though you haven't released your true form yet," Ulquiorra said to his right and Ichigo snapped his head away from the stare to look at him.

"Yeah, you showed me that she can transform herself, but how does that prove that all this mythology stuff is true?" Ichigo asked suspiciously.

"I see your point, but I'm afraid all we can do at this time is to tell you who we are and hope you see that we are not being untruthful," Ulquiorra brought more of that golden liquid to his lips, drinking deeply from the flute. Ichigo just nodded.

"Ulqui and I met some time ago," Orihime started dreamily, making Ichigo turn his attention to her. She smiled softly, as if remembering something. "I married him without ever seeing his face or knowing who he was, and his mother wasn't very happy about that because I was human and he was a god," she frowned. "But it didn't matter in the end, because Ulquiorra was brave enough to fight for me, and I became an immortal soon after that. We've been together ever since. They made our story into a myth, where we were renamed Eros and Psyche," Orihime trailed off, setting her chin in her hand and staring lovingly at the dark-haired, green-eyes man to her right. Ichigo frowned, thinking that he i knew he had heard those names some place before. Then suddenly, something clicked in the back of his mind. Thank you stupid made for TV movies!

"_You're Cupid_?" he screeched without thinking, pointing a finger at Ulquiorra, who frowned deeply at him.

"Please my name is Ulquiorra, or shortened to Eros, but never Cupid. That name is from the unoriginal people who plagiarized the ideas of the civilization before them and then dared to pray to me and ask me to bless them with love," Ulquiorra deadpanned, but Ichigo's finger was still pointing at him and he was still gaping like a fish without air.

"Ah, I never get tired of people's reactions to the _real_ you," Grimmjow laughed heartily from across the table, placing his hands behind his head.

"Well, then who are you?" Ichigo asked, curiosity nearly eating him up inside.

Indeed, who was Grimmjow? He had already said that he was demi-god...

Grimmjow sighed before reaching out to snag another apple (he seemed to really like those) and taking a bite of it, his sharper than average canines scraping against the ripe flesh of the fruit.

"Like I said, I'm half and half. Dad was human, famous for being kind of a dick and a good-looking bastard, but he died before I was born. Mom's the same as Ulquiorra's, goddess of love and beauty and all that, but you said that you'd never heard of her, so..." Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, taking another bite.

"So, were you famous?" Ichigo asked bluntly. Grimmjow laughed, a little bitterly.

"Nah, not really. Had a few good cults going in Sapphos up until dear old step-daddy dearest caught me and said that I needed to stop fucking around," he said nonchalantly.

"Cults?" Ichigo questioned, not liking the sound of that word.

"Yes, during the ancient days of Greece, many cults were formed to worship and pray to a particular god or goddess. I had a few myself," Ulquiorra answered, irritating Ichigo a little. He hadn't asked _him_.

"Oh, what did they pray to you for?" he unconsciously leaned forward to Grimmjow to hear the answer and the man looking down at him, his forever blue eyes sparkling with mirth and a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

"Care to take a guess?" he asked.

Traitorous blood pooled in Ichigo's face, across his cheekbones and he tore his eyes away from the blunette, however hard it was.

Hah. All this time and Grimmjow actually was a sex god.

Ichigo's eyes flew across the table and noticed that Orihime slipped back into her gigai, looking rather plain after having just been magnificent a minute ago.

He wondered what Grimmjow would like out of his gigai, in his true form...

"Do you remember the text Grimmjow had you read about ambrosia?" Ulquiorra interrupted his increasingly naughty thoughts.

Ichigo flushed a little as he remembered the text, and just what _other_ reasons for which Grimmjow had him read it.

"So you have surmised that the drink you consumed when you were last here was ambrosia, correct?"

"I figured as much."

"Then you have come to terms with the fact that you are now immortal?"

"Ye-wait, what?" Ichigo's eyes went to Ulquiorra's face, his expression panicked.

Immortal?

"Yes, were you not paying attention to what you were reading? Ambrosia makes the drinker immortal and ageless."

Ichigo groaned and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands, peeking out to only half-heartedly glare at Grimmjow.

"You could have told me that before I drank it, bastard," he said a tad bitterly. The blunette at least had the dignity to look a little guilty.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

So, it was official. Ichigo would never get any older than nineteen years, one month, and thirteen days old.

What he tell his father?

Oh gods, his father. Was he allowed to tell him all of this? How would his dad react to finding out that his wife was still alive out there somewhere, and was a goddess no less?

"It's not as bad as you think, Ichigo. Not when you have friends to stay by your side," Orihime chirped in an effort to make him feel better.

"However, Ichigo, there is still one more step to reaching your full potential as a demigod, and gaining your full powers," Ulquiorra interrupted his thoughts.

"Powers?" Ichigo asked, befuddled.

"Yes, increased durability, strength, speed. You will see if you choose to accept them."

Ichigo lifted his head out of his hands and met Ulquiorra's gaze.

"What do I do?" he asked. Maybe this was a dream and he would wake up, passed out on the lumpy couch in his apartment. A part of him was still having trouble believing all of this was real, but a bigger part of him was telling him that this was the truth, that he had always known about it deep inside.

"Simply eat the nectar," Ulquiorra gestured towards the fruit on the table, the mounds and platters of it and Ichigo's gaze swept over the ripe-looking fruit. Hmm, so this was the food of the gods...

He picked up the peach he had been eyeing from the very beginning and ran the pad of his thumb over the soft flesh of it, hesitantly bringing it to his lips. Well, if what they had said was true, he was already immortal, so he might as well reap the benefits. He sunk his teeth into the peach, his eyes widening as soon as the taste seeped across his tongue.

He had to swallow back a moan. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.

However the ecstasy of the taste soon was replace with an unpleasant stinging sensation all over his skin. Seriously, it was _everywhere_.

He dropped the peach back to the platter, fully intending to ask what the hell was happening to him, but as soon as the peach hit the table, a great pain ripped it's way through his chest, making it feel as if someone was slicing him open. He wanted to scream, but it felt like he was being suffocated all over, as there was some great weight on him.

"You could've told the kid what was going to happen."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"That would have only caused for him to develop unnecessary aversion, and yes, he will be fine."

Blackness started to overcome his vision and soon he couldn't see anything. He wanted to curse the bastards out for doing this to him, but his tongue felt like lead, as did the rest of his body. He felt himself start to sway in his seat and then gravity begin to pull him down as he started to dive into unconsciousness.

He fell sideways, the last thing he felt before he completely blacked were two strong arms wrapped around his middle and a comforting warmth.

"It's alright, I've got you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Just to summarize:

Ulquiorra - Eros - full god, god of love and physical love

Orihime - Psyche - immortal

Grimmjow - demi-god - worshipped briefly for sexual prowess

More information coming next chapter. :)

* * *

><p>Okay, let me start off by saying that I know I was supposed to have this up a day or two ago. Yeah, I guess I lied. I was just a little put out by how the last chapter turned out and so I wanted to make sure this one was extra special, and that took me a little longer than expected. It seems like I only have time to write in the wee hours of the morning (it is almost five here.)<p>

Thank you to those though who still left a nice comment, and to those that still favorited/added this to their alerts. :)

If you guys are unfamiliar with/interested in the myth of Eros and Psyche, I will be doing a GrimmHime version for my one-shot collection, Quixotic. I already posted one epic one-shot over there, with Ichigo and Grimmjow set in a fairytale, so check it out? Please and thank you.

Also, if you are a writer and you find yourself distracted just as often as I do, I strongly recommend DarkRoom for PC users and WriteRoom for Mac users. It's a fullscreen word processor that doesn't have any distracting buttons, just a black or white screen and the text you're writing. So useful! I love it. :D

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach.

Quote belongs to Homer. Did you notice how I used the word "hubris"? Ohohoho, this little author enjoyed reading The Odyssey far too much.


	6. In Which The Plot Thickens

**κεφάλαιο έξι:**

**In Which The Plot Thickens**

* * *

><p><em>Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.<em>

* * *

><p>The first thing Ichigo was aware of was the unpleasant suffocating sensation, the slight stinging all over his skin had not dissipated. It felt as if his entire body had succumbed to the pins and needles feeling that comes after decreased blood circulation. He groaned at the feeling, opening his eyes.<p>

He was lying on his back, presumably on a bed, staring up at a ceiling, a ceiling that he knew was not his because his wasn't painted the prettiest shade of baby blue. He also felt that he had been stripped down to his briefs. Furrowing his brow, he turned his head slowly so that he could look to the side. The pain wasn't _so _bad, it was just like he was really, really sore, like he had been pushed past his physical limits the day before.

Orihime was there, sitting in a plush armchair, her chin in her hand as her elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath she took. Ichigo felt a surge of affection for the girl, they barely knew each other, were mere classmates, and yet she was keeping vigil by his bedside.

It seemed he was in someone's bedroom, a bedroom that looked very familiar somehow...

A creaking noise to his right captured Ichigo's attention and he turned his head bit by bit to face where the noise was coming from. It turned out that the sound was due to the door being opened slowly, a blunette head appearing and then the rest of a rather fine body following.

Ah, that was it.

Ichigo tried to sit up, but it felt like there was some great weight on him, holding him down. It was a terrible feeling, like he was being suffocated in his own skin. It was even getting hard to breathe at that point.

"Of course you choose the minute I'm out of the room to wake up."

Grimmjow smirked a little, but the light didn't reach his eyes. Ichigo frowned, his face feeling almost numb.

"Wha' happened?" he asked groggily, his voice thick and hoarse. Grimmjow walked further into the room, running a hand through his already mussed turquoise hair, several strands rebelling and falling onto his forehead that was untouched by lines or blemishes, despite his smirk dropping onto a slight scowl.

"Well, Ulquiorra could probably explain it better, but..." he trailed off, looking unsure exactly of what to say. Ichigo felt his frown deepen. Why hadn't they warned him that it was going to hurt like hell when he bit into the peach? What exactly had happened to cause this sensation? He wanted to ask, but his throat felt too dry for him to use his voice anymore.

Grimmjow's cyan eyes lifted from the floor to meet Ichigo's, and the latter felt his heart stutter like it always did whenever he looked into those cerulean depths. They were always so positively arresting that it was hard to remember to breathe sometimes. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

Hah. Here he was, lying in, while not quite agonizing, very uncomfortable pain and he was thinking about pretty Grimmjow's eyes were. That couldn't be normal, it just couldn't be.

"Are you even listening?"

Ichigo jolted, well as much as he could in his current state, and realized that while he had been daydreaming about Grimmjow's eyes, the man had been talking. However, before he could answer that yes, he had been listening, thank you _very_ much, it felt like the weight on his chest increased and then left suddenly, leaving him gasping for breath.

Through his pants, he could hear a sudden feminine gasp and assumed that Orihime had awakened. He was proven right when her face appeared in his line of vision, the auburn-haired girl leaning over him with a look of worry written on her face. Her gray eyes were wide as she hesitantly reached a hand out to touch him, until Grimmjow grabbed her by the wrist, confusing Ichigo.

"Don't touch him yet," the blunette nearly growled, releasing the girl's wrist from his grip. At her shocked look, he further explained "His spiritual pressure will go fucking haywire." Orihime's eyes widened and she nodded. Ichigo just felt further confused.

He remembered eating that piece of fruit, the one that was supposed to cement his status as a demigod. And then the discomfort and pain that followed after. What the hell had happened? Wasn't he supposed to be running amok blowing up things with his superpowers now?

Okay, maybe not, but still.

Another increase in the pressure around him had his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he desperately tried to take in oxygen. It was like someone was sitting on his chest and he felt his hands clawing at the bedsheets.

"Shit, we can't wait for him, we're gonna have to do it now," he heard Grimmjow's voice from somewhere above him, but his vision was blurred so he couldn't make out exactly where the man was.

"Now?" came Orihime's uncertain reply. Grimmjow didn't answer at first, swearing lowly under his breath. Ichigo's vision started to darken and his body was feeling heavier than ever, like concrete in water. His struggling was starting to stop.

There were loud, rapid footsteps leading away and then coming back towards him and then a large hand was grasping his own, leading his back to arch off of the bed as the heaviness in and around him seemed to fluctuate rapidly. Mumbled words, both from feminine and masculine voices were uttered from somewhere around his head. He was vaguely aware of something being placed onto his finger, but the thought of that was soon lost as seemingly searingly hot lips covered his own.

It felt like something was being pulled out of him from the inside, slipping up through his throat and out of his mouth, which was still sealed with someone's kiss. Grimmjow's kiss, he realized. His eyes flew open as very suddenly all of the pressure disappeared, as if simply flung away, and Grimmjow was no longer there.

Taking deep, gasping breaths, Ichigo lay on the bed, an immense sense of relief washing over him like a slow, calm wave. The pressure was gone and the pins and needles sensation was too. Everything felt...better.

But not just in the sense that he no longer felt the pain and discomfort, but also in general, everything was...better.

Ichigo slowly sat up, expecting to feel sore or some sort of residual effect of the experience he had just been through, but no...there was nothing, and yet there was_ something_, something that hadn't been there before.

However, before he could truly begin to take in the undefinable sensation, he noticed that Orihime and Grimmjow were no longer right beside him, but rather sprawled out on the floor, groaning. The latter slowly pushed himself up off of the floor, raising a hand to his forehead and grimacing. Ichigo felt both confusion and a hint of fear, concern. His eyes flitted to Orihime, who was also lifting herself off of the ground, running hands through her burnt sienna hair and shaking her head as if to clear it.

"What just happened?" Ichigo asked, and he was surprised to find that his voice wasn't raspy or weak like it had been just a few moments ago, it was possibly even a little bit deeper, lower than it had been before.

"Fuck, that's some spiritual energy you've got there," Grimmjow voiced, a little rougher than usual, as he stood up to his full height. He lifted a hand out to Orihime, who took it with a small smile and helped her to her feet. Ichigo wondered how exactly they had ended up on the floor in the first place. When he was about to ask again, Orihime cut him off.

"When Grimm, ah, when he released your spiritual energy so that you could shed your gigai, the pressure pushed us back," she informed him, blushing a little as she skipped over exactly how the blunette had 'released' his spiritual energy. Ichigo raised one eyebrow and lifted a hand to rub his neck, only to find that something was amiss.

Curiously, he brought his hand back to see that there were several strands of his own orange hair woven between his fingers, much longer than it had been before. Seeing the look on his face, Orihime took the chance to explain further.

"When you shed your gigai, sometimes your appearance changes a little," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. Ichigo frowned, looking from her to Grimmjow, who was studying him with an extremely intense look in his blue eyes.

Wait.

That was it. T

That was what was so different about everything around him. Everything was intensified somehow, clearer, like he had been looking through a translucent piece of glass and now it was gone. And now even from several feet away, he could make out all the different shades of blue in Grimmjow's eyes, whereas before they had just been sapphire blue, he could see the inner ring of pale, crystal blue laced with dark flecks of navy and gray.

As if he hadn't been completely, unhealthily obsessed with them already…

Despite having a bajillion and one questions running through his mind, he broke away from where their stares had locked and swung his legs off of the bed, suddenly very aware that the only thing he was wearing were his black boxer briefs, the ones with a hole in the waistband but had never bothered to get rid of because they were so comfortable. However, the slight flush of embarrassment soon faded away as soon as his reflection in the full-length across from the bed caught his eye.

Now, Ichigo had never been vain, per say, but he would give credit where credit was due. He knew he had been good-looking, hot even, with his nicely tone, lithe form and clear skin, but now...

Well, he was downright _sexy_.

His hair had grown longer, as he suspected, down to where the ends brushed against his shoulder blades (and he had to say that he definitely was one of the few men who could pull the look off.) But that wasn't even the most noticeable change. There were three red slash marks across the left side of his face, running from the top of his head, across his eye, and down to wrap around his cheekbone.

But besides that, there wasn't anything truly _different_, it was just like he had been taken and perfected. The scar he had had on his right hipbone from where he had had his appendix removed was gone, the scar on his knee from where he had fallen off of a bike as child, and all of the scars from all of the fights he had gotten into high school, those were gone too.

The slight dusting of freckles across his nose looked as if they belonged there, the newly bronzed luster of his skin complimenting them perfectly. Even his eyes were a tad bit _better_, as if all the things he had read in books about brown eyes that he had never believed to be true, were. Truth was, he had always been jealous of those with other eye colors, thinking his own to be boring, but the honey-hershey eyes staring back at him were positively _luminescent_.

Ichigo was tempted to check downstairs to see if there had been any new developments there, but the current company stopped him from doing so. _Not_ that he needed any help in that department, thank you very much.

"I see you all started without me," an apathetic voice cut across his thoughts and Ichigo spun around to see none other than Ulquiorra standing there. Orihime opened her mouth to explain, but he cut her off, pinning Grimmjow with his emerald gaze. "Do you realize what could've happened had you not executed the ritual properly?"

Grimmjow just shrugged his shoulders, looking totally irreverent while Ichigo's brow furrowed.

"Ichigo could have very well died today if it obviously wasn't for sheer dumb luck," Ulquiorra frowned the slightest bit.

_Died_? What happened to being immortal? Ichigo's panicked thoughts raced across his mind.

"Well, he didn't," Grimmjow supplied oh so intelligently, putting his hands in his pockets.

"And may I ask how you brought forth his spiritual energy?"

"Heh. You could say I 'sucked' it out of him," Grimmjow said, chuckling, causing both Ichigo and Orihime's faces to go a little red at the innuendo. Ulquiorra just continued to frown.

"What do you mean _could've died_?" Ichigo asked, his tone the equivalent of the calm before the storm. Grimmjow turned to him, his smirk turning a little sheepish.

"Well, I'd never done the ritual before, so..." he trailed off, and Ichigo's eyes narrowed.

"Grimmjow, you are as reckless as ever," Ulquiorra sighed uncharacteristically, effectively interrupting whatever Ichigo had been about to say. "You had better not behave like such at your new position at the firm."

"Yeah, yeah," Grimmjow rolled his eyes, but paused mid-roll. "New position?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, I just had a meeting with one of the partners and secured you a position as an intern there," Ulquiorra said. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, making him take an unconscious step backwards. The dude was kind of scary when he was angry.

"Fuck. You. Ulquiorra, I'm not taking some damn position as an intern."

"You haven't held a job in over forty years, you cannot afford to be selective."

_Forty years…?_ Just how old was Grimmjow?

"I don't fucking want a job," Grimmjow snarled, spinning on his heel and falling into his desk chair, crossing his arms rather petulantly. But before Ulquiorra could say anything else on the matter, Orihime spoke up.

"Ulqui, maybe you should just let Grimm find a job on his own, one that he likes," she suggested, using the full effect of her big storm gray eyes on her lover. Ichigo suspected that after all these years, she had learned a trick or two on how to convince the man. He briefly wondered just how long they had been together, if they were old enough to have the Eros and Psyche tale inspired by them. And Grimmjow hadn't had a job in over forty years...and he had had cults in his honor in Ancient Greek times...

Well, shit.

Wait...job, job...

"What time is it?" Ichigo suddenly blurted, eyes flitting across the room for a clock in a panic.

"It is a quarter until eleven," Ulquiorra answered, not looking moved by Ichigo's apparent crisis.

"I have to be at work in fifteen minutes," his hands raised to pull at his newly lengthened hair, looking around for where they had put his clothes. He couldn't believe he had been out the entire night and most of the morning.

"Oh!" Orihime gasped, running to where the nightstand was, and where Ichigo's clothes from the night before had been folded neatly and placed on top. "Here," she said, grabbing them and holding them out to him, and Ichigo took them with a grateful, murmured thanks.

"Um, how do I...?" he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his question.

"To put your gigai back on all you have to do is remove your ring," Ulquiorra seemed to read his thoughts, gesturing towards Ichigo's hand. Eyebrows raised, the orangette looked at his left hand and sure enough, his mother's ring was there on his forefinger. His eyes flitted to where Grimmjow was, sitting in the desk chair, still sulking and it seemed that no matter what expression the other wore, it never detracted from his beauty one bit, but such is the life of being an actual sex god.

_So Grimmjow hadn't actually been lying about the ring…_

"And when I put it back on-"

"You will be in your true form once more."

Nodding rather numbly, Ichigo was about to slide the ring off of his finger when he realized he was still only in his boxer briefs. Feeling his face heat up, he grabbed his jeans from yesterday (why had they been taken off?) and hurriedly shoved them onto his legs. It was like he could _feel_ everyone's eyes on him, especially Grimmjow's, of course Grimmjow's.

Tugging his shirt on over his head, he heard Orihime clear her throat daintily.

"Do you need a ride to work Ichigo?" she asked just as his head popped through the opening of his shirt. Now it had always been in Ichigo's nature to never really accept help from anyone, always politely declining and he was on the verge of doing so, when Grimmjow's rough velvet voice spoke up from where he was still sitting at his desk chair.

"I'll take you," he said.

Well, how was Ichigo supposed to say no to _that_?

* * *

><p>Not a minute later, Orihime had given a simple chain for Ichigo to slip his mother's ring onto while he was in his gigai. It was strange for him to think of the body he had spent his entire life in as 'fake', and there was a strange sensation when he was back in it, like he felt a little heavy, sluggish. Not to mention completely plain compared to what he had looked like in his 'true form'. And then he was following Grimmjow through the kitchen into the garage which housed a number of cars, all rather expensive-looking considering Ichigo's limited knowledge of them.<p>

He followed the blunette past the sports cars, one Lexus, one Porsche, the one Honda Civic that he automatically assumed was Orihime's, and then to the last one in the garage, an all-black Lincoln Navigator.

Why did Grimmjow need a job like Ulquiorra so insisted if they had _this_ much money to afford cars like these?

"Like it?" Grimmjow questioned playfully, stepping into the driver's side. Ichigo reached forward and opened the passenger side door, meeting the other's mirthful blue eyes with his own, smirking.

"Looks kind of like compensation to me."

Instead of being offended, Grimmjow let out a loud, barking laugh and turned the key in the ignition.

"You of all people should know that's not true, _Ichigo_."

Ichigo's face immediately felt like it had caught fire, as it always did whenever _The Incident_ was mentioned. Plus Grimmjow had only just kissed him, even if was for the sake of the 'ritual' Ulquiorra had mentioned that would pull him out of his gigai. And if he had not felt like he was on the verge of dying, it would've probably been the best kiss he had ever had.

"S-shut up," he stammered lamely, looking down at his shoes, expecting for Grimmjow to just laugh at him and pull out of the driveway. However, he was startled out of his embarrassed stupor when a hand slammed against the window by his head. Surprised, he raised his eyes to see that Grimmjow was very, _very _close, his face just inches away from Ichigo's own. How does one breathe again? Because he's completely forgotten.

"Come on, I know that you've been dyin' to finish what we started the other night," the blunette practically breathed against Ichigo's flushed face. Crystalline, ocean water blue eyes met his own and he had to suppress a shudder. Yes, he was dying to finish what they had started.

There was only one problem.

He _liked _Grimmjow.

As in Ichigo didn't want to become some sort of plaything to the other thing, one that after a certain period of time was thrown out, cum-covered and heartbroken. No, he simply wouldn't allow that to happen. He had some dignity, you know.

"I-I...," Ichigo glanced over to the clock on the dashboard. "I'm going to be late for work."

Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow, following Ichigo's line of sight to the clock.

Only ten more minutes until he had to be at work.

"Alright then, but don't think we're not done talking about this, sweetheart."

And with that Grimmjow peeled out of the garage and onto the street, the orangette scowling at the pet name the other had used. Those were the kinds of boys you were always warned about growing up, the ones who called you 'sweetheart' or 'baby' or 'sugar' when they barely knew you. The ones you should stay away from...

* * *

><p>Now, Ichigo knew that they would have to drive pretty fast in order to make it to the diner on time, but you see, he was still pretty new to this whole immortal thing and Grimmjow's driving was positively <em>maniacal<em>. Seriously, at one point he had driven up on the sidewalk to pass a car whom he dictated was "going too fucking slow".

They made it to the diner in five minutes when if Grimmjow had driven like a normal human being it would have taken twenty. Ichigo thought for a second Grimmjow would have to pry his fingers loose from the car seat that he was clutching onto for dear life, but once he realized that they were still alive and at the diner, he slowly let go.

Ichigo muttered a quick thanks to the smirking sex god and opened his door to step out onto the curb, when he saw Grimmjow doing the same. Quirking a brow in his direction, the man only grinned broadly in return.

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't walk you inside?"

Deciding to let it slide only because Grimmjow had driven him to work, Ichigo didn't protest as the insanely attractive male walked beside him into Shunsui's All American Diner.

Riruka was there, seemingly lying in wait for him.

"Ichigo! There you are, it's almost time for you to start your shift! I've been having to clean the flatware, which I should remind you is _your_ job!" she shrieked as soon as he came in the door, long pigtails swinging madly. Her eyes then shifted to take in Grimmjow, standing right behind Ichigo and he watched as her eyes literally became heart-shaped and red blossomed over her cheekbones. Well, not literally, but you get the picture. Riruka was always like this when it came to _cute _things, like tall, broad-shouldered, blue-haired hunks. It was the only thing that could dispel her insane temper.

"Alright, well I'm here now," Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly, moving around the host stand towards the back room.

"Yeah, well, I hope you know that we still haven't found a replacement for Yukio yet so you've gotta pull a double today," Riruka pouted, crossing her arms.

Ichigo groaned but stopped in his tracks when he remembered Grimmjow was still there.

"Well, see ya," he offered a tad awkwardly.

"Yeah, see ya," Grimmjow winked and Ichigo was reminded of when he had done that only a few days ago (gods, it felt like it had been forever) and how the blunette managed to pull it off without looking sleazy or hokey. Ichigo opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and turned around to head to the back room, where he luckily kept a spare uniform.

Somehow he knew that wasn't the last he had seen of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

He was only proven correct when in the midst of pulling on his uniform shirt, a broad figure slammed the door open making Ichigo squeak (masculinely) and he looked to see in the dim lighting glittering white teeth and blue eyes. It looked like something out of a horror movie, and yet something like a storybook illustration at the same time.

"W-what are you doing here?" Ichigo stammered, then noticing the pair of roller skates dangling from Grimmjow's fingers by their laces.

_Oh no. No no no no no..._

"You're looking at Shunsui's newest employee, sweetheart."

* * *

><p>AN: I would've had this up earlier, but Verizon was being mean. :( Ah, that first scene ended up being more intense than I meant it to be, but it just kind of wrote itself that way...this is supposed to be a fun story! :(

Anyway...hope you all liked this chapter. And yes, I realize that Grimmjow is very OOC in here, because, you know, he's not psychotic, but...I think this is better.

As always, thank you so, so much to those that left reviews or added this to their favorites/alerts. Every single one of them means the world to me. You are all lovely people. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Quote belongs to Plato, the dude who said that we were all originally born with four arms and legs until Zeus split us apart and so we're constantly looking for our other half.

And since I made you guys wait for this chapter, here's a brief summary of what's going on in the next; Grimmjow works his first shift at Shunsui's with Ichigo, then the latter realizes that he still has to come up with something for the KU weekly, which leads to he and Grimmjow taking a trip to see the Oracle, whom we've already met. ;)


	7. In Which There are Symptoms

**κεφάλαιο επτά**

**In Which There are Symptoms**

* * *

><p><em>You know how men are. They think "No" means "Yes" and "Get lost" means "Take me. I'm yours."<em>

* * *

><p>Grimmjow Jaegerjaques never believed himself to be the type of man that spent more than thirty seconds trying to seduce someone, never had to try, actually. That was one of the many benefits of being a demigod, one that inherited some of his mother's powers and his father's infamously good looks. The best benefit, at that. He can say confidently that he's knocked boots with more people than Giacomo Casanova, Hugh Hefner, and Gene Simmons combined (granted he's had two thousand six hundred and twenty six years to do so. )<p>

And usually he wouldn't care, or even notice, if someone didn't want some of his fine ass, because let's face it, there's practically a line around the block of people willing to sell their soul to get it. He doesn't have to go after anyone, they flock to him like sheep to a shepherd. And before you start to call him a man whore, or selfish, or thoughtless, or any other less than kind adjective, you should know that Grimmjow was raised with the belief that sex is a beautiful part of nature and that there's really nothing wrong with a quick fuck here and there (or several times a day, whichever.) Oh and nudity's perfect fine too, the human body is art so really he isn't a man whore at all, more of a...connoisseur of sorts...

Yes, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques is a connoisseur , an appreciator of art, and he dares you to tell him any differently. Seriously, just _try it_.

Anyway, back to the original point, being that he never had to actively pursue anyone for his entire (very long) life.

Well, that was until Ichigo.

There was something that made that adorably beautiful orangette different, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. But perhaps it was the way Ichigo's eyes sparkled like chocolate diamonds, every bit as decadent and luscious. Perhaps it was the tousled locks of bright sunset orange hair, the ends looking almost golden in the right light, that held spikes that defied the laws of gravity though the ends brushed the perfectly broad enough shoulders. Perhaps it was the straight nose that slightly turned up at the end and defined cheekbones that were dusted with just the right amount of nearly invisible freckles. Perhaps it was the lithe and slender, but toned body covered in flawlessly sun-kissed skin, a body that he just _knew _was as flexible and pliable as gum that had been in your pocket for the entire day, a body that he wanted to get just as sticky.

Perhaps it was the mile-long legs that he had felt wrapped around his waist or the long vermilion lashes so dark they almost looked black or the elegant curve of that long neck or the peachy skin that showed right about the waistline of his skintight jeans when the boy bent over or the lips that turned impossibly full when he pouted or had been kissed thoroughly or the warm smile that seemed to brighten the entire room the few times Grimmjow had seen it. Perhaps it was even that firm but malleable ass the orangette possessed.

But perhaps it was because Grimmjow found himself incredibly turned on by Ichigo's dichotomous personality, blushing virgin and hot-tempered hellcat at constant war in that beautiful boy's psyche. One second he was looking shyly down at the floor, face flushed, and the next glaring at him with blazing Coca-cola colored eyes.

Perhaps it was because it seemed that no matter how much he turned on the charm, smiled, shook his ass, etcetera, Ichigo didn't seem to want him. And that just about _killed _him inside.

Not to mention bruised his overly inflated ego.

Grimmjow was world-renowned for his sexual prowess (if you couldn't tell) and yet when he was with Ichigo that time during the party, he had screwed everything up, and _not _in a good way. He had come in the poor boy's eye for Zeus' sake.

But he wasn't known for giving up, either. Anything that didn't relate to the sexual world he had had to work for, and therefore he wasn't about to be discouraged by the challenge Ichigo Kurosaki presented.

In fact, he was very, _very _excited by it.

It was why he had seized the opportunity to land a job alongside the orangette when he had seen it. If Ichigo could see how utterly sexy he was in a pair of rollerblades and that tight blue uniform, then he was sure to give in. Plus, maybe this would keep that prat Ulquiorra off of his ass. The apathetic bastard hadn't been able to shut up about his lack of employment for four decades now, but Grimmjow was glad he had held out for this job.

Currently he was leaning against the malt bar, waiting for an egg creme some customer had ordered, roller skate clad feet crossed as he surveyed Ichigo from across the room with an expression that rivaled the one rather robust patron's when he looked at the double bacon cheeseburger with extra...well, everything. Drumming his fingers against the plastic countertop, he saw the orangette in question look around from his position between two booths, as if he knew he was being watched from somewhere.

When those mocha latte brown eyes met his, Grimmjow smiled rakishly, enjoying the view as Ichigo blushed brighter than a stop light, that crimson stain on his bronzed skin looking ever so enticing even when those eyes narrowed in irritation and the boy skated away jerkily, muttering something under his breath, most likely an elaborate plan to kill him.

Oh yes, Grimmjow was _very _glad. And he could feel his new tight uniform pants growing even tighter by the second.

* * *

><p>Ichigo had always believed hate to be a very strong word. Though he was brash and sometimes had a <em>little <em>bit of a temper, he was always very reluctant to say he hated someone. The number of people he could say he truly hated he could count on the fingers of one hand. And Ichigo could very honestly say he reserved the middle one for a certain blue-haired, perverted, possibly insane bastard (one that he had come _this _close to willingly handing over his virginity on a silver platter to.)

Oh yes, forget what he said previously about liking the man, demigod, whatever. He _hated _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques with every fiber of being...and then some. The freaking jerk thought that he could just waltz into Ichigo's place of business and get a job handed to him on a silver platter by a hostess who was basically rendered into a mindless zombie at the sight of anything remotely male and attractive. And then he thought he could strap on a pair of roller skates and skate around and wait on tables like he was born to!

Well...maybe he could do it after all, because he _was _in fact doing all of that, and _very _sexily if Ichigo were to be honest with himself. But that wasn't the point! It had taken weeks for Ichigo to nail turning on roller skates while carrying a tray full of food and Grimmjow could just do it, just like that. It wasn't fair.

And the fact that the blunette kept sending him those to-die-for winks from across the dining hall, reducing Ichigo to a pile of quivering mush for several moments? Yeah, _really _not fair. Seriously, he could die a happy man just for a look from those hungry sapphire eyes. And that couldn't be healthy, especially since he was trying to stay far, far away from Grimmjow.

He had never had his heart broken before (if you didn't count the time that he had found out that Joe Odagiri was, in fact, _not _gay)...but he could imagine it hurt very much. Probably something similar to what he was feeling right now as he realized that he couldn't jump into a relationship with Grimmjow, no matter how much he wanted to. No, no, that wouldn't do at all. The sex god only wanted to use him for just that, sex. And while the idea of it sounded actually rather wonderful, Ichigo knew he couldn't risk his heart like that.

There's something so tragic about someone like him, who would give his heart away in a second to someone he thought loved him (_really _loved him, not obsessively stalked him and tried to make his life miserable like _some _people) and yet he never would, because, well, Ichigo pretty much believed that no one, especially someone like Grimmjow, could ever truly love him. He was too...distant.

Sure, he was nice to people (if they were nice to him, that is) but the only person he had ever really had a close relationship to was his father. It had been just the two of them when he was growing up and though he had had friends, none of them were really the real, true best friends he had always heard about. And that was his fault, he didn't open up to people. He didn't let them in.

Just like he wouldn't let Grimmjow in, he was far too afraid of being rejected, of being hurt.

And then of course, you have to throw on top the fact that he was a mother loving _demigod_. Yeah, he could imagine how a first date would end up if he told his companion that little tidbit of information. Most likely, in a mental hospital.

"Hey, do you think we could get our mozzarella sticks anytime soon?" a snide voice knocked Ichigo from his reverie and the startled orangette looked to his right to see a group of four young men whom had to be incoming freshmen to Karakura University. They had that _look _to them, backwards baseball caps, cargo shorts, and t-shirts with not so funny slogans emblazoned across their chests. The one he assumed had spoken was looking at him with a jeering grin, a self-assured gleam to his beady eyes.

"They'll be right out," Ichigo answered automatically, a complete reflex from having worked at Shunsui's for so long now. Before the customer could say anything else, he skated away towards the counter where two plates of burgers and fries were waiting for him to pick up. Tucking the tray under his arm, his eyes scanned the diner and catching amongst the faded, retro decor, a piercing gaze that made his heart seize.

Grimmjow was watching him from where the blunette was standing by the malt bar, a lazy stance looking completely at home on his toned, perfect frame. If Ichigo hadn't been so pathetically entranced by the demigod's allure, he would've seen the heart-shaped eyes of the other patrons that looked on with absolute adoration at the new server (they all collectively had agreed they would come to Shunsui's _much _more often.) But as it was, the orangette felt a colossal blush overwhelm him and he forcibly tore his gaze away.

"Stupid sex god, looking all sexy like that like that's _natural_. It can't be, it should be fucking _illegal_," Ichigo muttered to himself as he glided right up to the counter. He set his tray down in order to pick up the two orders of burgers in their respective small red baskets.

The burgers were made to order, customized to be loaded with all the toppings the retro diner had to offer, including several sauces and condiments that spilled over the meat patty and over the bun to make for a particularly unappetizing liquidy mess that blended with the fries that had been upgraded to be topped with melted cheddar cheese and the specialty chili. But whatever, Ichigo wasn't going to judge that someone would actually eat what looked like a heart attack on a plate. He himself was planning to make a special trip to the convenience store in order to buy some more Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked as soon as he got off of work that day.

Turning around in a rather spectacular display of roller skate skills, the college student headed to where the couple whom had ordered the mess of burgers he was holding was sitting in a booth near the front. Almost subconsciously hoping that Grimmjow had seen him showing such athleticism, he spared a glance to where he thought the sex god was still standing by the malt bar, only to see seats full of customers and the place completely barren of any beautiful blue hair and eyes.

And that was his mistake, because as Ichigo's eyes were completely consumed with the task of searching for Grimmjow, he didn't notice that as he was skating through the aisle of booths that an all-white Nike Air Force One (he was unaware they even still made those) was suddenly thrust out into his path. For only being a sneaker and approximately a size seven, the shoe was surprisingly hard and firm as it caught the tip of Ichigo's right skate, instantly making the orangette's foot invert to the left as he lost his balance. There was a brief sensation of a sharp pain in his ankle and something hot and aqueous coming into contact with his chest and face before he hit the ground hard, his hands too preoccupied with holding the baskets of food to stop him from doing so.

Shock coursed through his system as a second passed, a ringing in his ears filled the silence that followed his faceplant into the tiled floor until mocking laughter broke out, laughter that made his face heat up with both embarrassment and anger. Slowly, he let go of the now crushed baskets food (which he now realized was the cause of the burning liquid on his face and the front of his uniform shirt) and pushed himself up to his knees. Not only did his face feel like it was on fire, but his right ankle did as well as it throbbed and pulsed inside of his snug roller skate.

Ichigo raised blazing chocolate brown eyes to see the obviously freshmen boys from earlier (the ones concerned about their precious mozzarella sticks) and glared heavily as he took in their cheerful expressions as they laughed heartily at his expense. He wanted to tell them off, _so _badly, wanted to stand up and throttle them until they thought twice about crossing him, Ichigo Kurosaki (a freaking demigod for fuck's sake.) But he couldn't, he was so mortified by all of the eyes he felt on him and so angry at being tripped like he was in grade school that he couldn't think straight, couldn't come up with anything remotely acceptable to say. Not to mention he couldn't stand up because he was pretty sure he had just sprained his ankle.

Despite that last face, Ichigo came to some of his senses and grabbed the closest chair and went to pull himself up, only to suddenly feel something warm wrap around his upper arm and tug him against something solid and onto his feet. Well, foot anyway. His right protested rather painfully as the wheels on his roller skate scraped against the floor as he was pulled up and so he reflexively lifted it a few inches off the ground.

"Just what the _fuck _are you little pussies laughing at?"

Ichigo's chest constricted and his heart stopped at the sound of that voice, like rough velvet, just a few inches away from him. His eyes flitted up to see the outline of what looked to be a very pissed off sex god. One with infuriated sapphire orbs and a snarl that looked like it belonged to a jungle cat.

The freshmen boys stopped laughing immediately.

However, the one who had so rudely asked about his mozzarella sticks earlier, and was presumably the one whom had tripped Ichigo considering he was the only one wearing white Nike Air Force Ones, still kept that cocky look to his extraordinarily average face.

"Chill out bro, it was just a joke," he said, rolling his eyes. Looking back to Grimmjow, Ichigo saw that the blunette was not about to _chill out_. He looked positively murderous, like steam was about to start blowing from his nose like a bull as he stared down the toreador's red flag and there was a vein ticking in the temple on Ichigo's side. It kind of reminded him of a time bomb and his embarrassment and anger temporarily forgotten, he really hoped that Grimmjow or the customers didn't start a fight. Something told him that the other man's fighting style may just border on _insanity_ if that close call in the library was anything to go by.

The hand that wasn't still encircling Ichigo's arm, holding him steady as he teetered on one skate, slammed down onto the table, rattling the glasses of soda and making a sound so abrupt and loud that the customers around the diner that weren't already looking on at the scene turned their heads immediately. The freshman who had spoken gulped audibly, his arrogant look vanishing to give way to a wary, wide-eyed stare. However, Ichigo couldn't even find any joy in his expression, as he was too dumbfounded by Grimmjow. The demigod was so irreverent, even easy-going, with a mass amount of perversion and lasciviousness. Sure, he could be a bit aggressive, but the newly turned immortal demigod had never seen the blunette so absolutely...well, _mad_ before.

"Well then, want me to show ya somethin' _I _find funny?" Grimmjow smiled maniacally down at the boy, eyes sparkling sadistically. However, before he could answer or the sex god could do anything, another large figure broke onto the scene.

Standing at an extremely impressive six foot seven, Chad Yasutora not only made a good fry cook, but also handy to have around should situations like this one arise.

"Is something wrong here, Ichigo?" he asked in his deep, slightly accented voice. Thickly muscled arms folded across his grease-stained Hawaiian shirt. The orangette turned to him with big toffee-colored eyes, silently begging for help in order to stop a fight from breaking out. He would _so _be fired, and then how would he pay for his Ben & Jerry's? He would have to dip into his new camera fund!

"I...I," Ichigo sputtered, subconsciously placing a hand on Grimmjow's arm that was closest to him and trying to tell him to back off.

"No problem here, they were jus' leavin'," the blue-haired sex god grinned, straightening to his full height and stepping away from the table, his free hand going to grip at Ichigo's wrist and pull the slimmer man's arm over the expanse of his broad shoulders so that he could support the other. He must have noticed that Ichigo had injured his ankle when he had tripped over that hideous, outdated shoe.

Apparently getting the message the freshmen boys tossed a few crumpled bills onto the table and nearly ran each other over in their haste to get to the door as Ichigo watched with wide eyes. Had Chad really scared them that badly? No, he couldn't have, he hadn't done anything but stand there. And he himself had only pathetically been perched perilously on one foot while being supported by Grimmjow.

It had to have been the blunette that had frightened them so badly that they left in such a hurry. And for some reason, Ichigo was rather proud of that fact, but for all of the world he couldn't figure out why. Was it because Grimmjow had done so on his behalf? Had apparently rushed over from his side of the diner to scare away the big, bad collegians...for _him_?

However before the young student could become too infatuated with the idea, he reminded himself that the sex god was obviously a master of seduction, and that was a classic move. You know, two guys go to a bar together, they spot a hot chick, one goes up to her and acts like an asshole and the other one chases him off? Yeah, that one. Grimmjow had just been lucky enough to have had real assholes to seiza an opportunity with.

And just when Ichigo was about to swoon and fall into the blunette's strong arms and thank him for saving him.

Okay, not really, the orangette's pride would get in the way of that happening, no matter just how tempting it was, thinking of how he could melt into the other's embrace, that warm, solid chest pressed firmly to his, their faces just inches apart as they stared into each other's eyes and then they would lean forward and-

Ahem, _anyway_.

Ichigo was brought back to Earth by the sound of Grimmjow's gravelly silken voice in his ear.

"Let's go fix you up, yeah?"

He didn't respond, just let himself be half-carried across the dining hall, several patrons watching the uncommonly-colored pair curiously as they passed by on their trek to the break room. The throbbing, pulsing ache in his ankle was increasing, sharp pains shooting up his leg whenever his roller skate accidentally brushed against the ground.

Grimmjow took his hand off of where it had been wrapped around Ichigo's narrow wrist in order to push the door open, immediately leading the younger demigod to the closest (and only) chair next to the table where employees ate their meals. The orangette could have almost whined at the loss of contact as he was slowly lowered onto the metal folding chair, the arm that had been around his waist disappearing along with the warmth it brought as Grimmjow knelt before him, thin blue brows furrowed. The blunette took Ichigo's still skated foot in his hands in a surprisingly gentle grip, so soft the orange-haired male didn't even feel it.

"This is gonna hurt a bit," Grimmjow warned before gripping the roller skate's laces in his fingers and unlacing them with a nimbleness Ichigo would have never suspected the former could possess. If he hadn't been looking at the other unlacing his skate, he wouldn't even have known the laces were being undone.

However, all too soon, the teal blue skate was as loose on his injured foot as it was going to get and Ichigo bit his lip hard at the premise of the pain that was sure to come as Grimmjow was most likely going to take his skate off of his foot in order to look at it.

And no, he was _not _a wimp, thankyouverymuch. He just didn't like pain. And, really, who does? Well, except for masochists, that is.

"Hey," Grimmjow's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and not just as in it was quiet. It had lost most of its edge, its tone that was dripping in cockiness and mirth like a popsicle drips brightly colored juice on a hot, July afternoon. It was soft, almost...tender. "Look at me."

Ichigo obeyed, and so hypnotized by those aquatic depths was he that he was only aware the skate and the sock that lay underneath was being slipped off of his foot was when he felt the air-conditioned cool air hit the bare skin of his toes. He started a little, breaking away from that too intense baby blues to stare in amazement at his now exposed foot.

How in Hades had Grimmjow managed to take off his roller skate without him even feeling it?

Super special demigod powers, surely.

The sex god ran the tips of his fingertips over the tops of Ichigo's foot up to the slender ankle, which was already swelling, the skin flushed and inflamed. Now that the orangette wasn't put into some sort of trance by the other's immortal superpower magic whatever the heck, he hissed in pain as Grimmjow gripped his heel and turned it slightly.

"That hurts, asshole!" he yelled, clenching his hands into fists in order to refrain from cuffing the blunette upside the head. But Grimmjow paid him no mind, that same uncharacteristic, almost contemplative frown on his face as he observed Ichigo's injury.

"Looks just like a sprain. Once you get into your true form, it should heal," he murmured, looking up to see Ichigo's confused expression, and decided to answer the orangette's unspoken question. "You pick some things up when ya've been around for over two K."

The orange-haired student's jaw dropped, his macchiato-flavored eyes enlarging until they looked like they might pop right out of his head.

"You're two _thousand_ years old?" Ichigo sputtered incredulously, because, let's face it, Grimmjow looks damn good for being over two millennia.

Actually, let's just say he looks damn good for any age.

"Two thousand six hundred and twenty six, if ya want to be specific." The sex god's smirk was back on his face. "Don't look so shocked, Ichi. One day ya'll be even older than that."

Ichigo was speechless. The concept of someone being so old, ancient practically, was astounding to him. And now that he was immortal, he would grow to be just as old and then some.

He imagined that the gods must have run out of good birthday party themes by now.

"Now come on, Ichi, arms up," Grimmjow said casually and Ichigo went to do just that, still stunned by the revelation of the other demigod's age, but as he had just raised his arms past his shoulders and felt hands tug at the hem of his shirt, he squawked indignantly and jerked away, wincing when his ankle was jarred from the movement.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, wrapping his arms around himself. Grimmjow just raised an eyebrow at him, an amused look passing over the other male's too beautiful to be real face as he stood from his crouched position.

"What, ya wanna stay in that shirt all day? For Zeus' sake, Ichi, ya've got ketchup and chili and...I don't even know what tha' is, all over it."

"Oh," Ichigo said quietly, embarrassed. Yes, he knew that Grimmjow wanted to sleep with him but he didn't think he was vain enough to assume that the blue-haired sex god would want him so much right then and there that he would jump him in the break room.

"Yeah, and ya've got some on yer pants too." Ichigo looked down to see the blunette pointing to his pant leg, right above his left knee, where it was completely clean. "Maybe ya should take those off too."

Okay, scratch that. It wasn't that he was so irresistible that Grimmjow had to fuck him in the break room, it was because the sex god was insanely perverted and couldn't stop thinking about sex for just one minute (and apparently also liked to make Ichigo's life resemble the deepest pit of Hades.) It probably didn't even matter whom the man screwed around with, as long as he got a tight hole to thrust himself into.

Romantic, right?

Please note the sarcasm, because there is no way that Grimmjow Jaegerjaques could be romantic even if he tried. Ichigo was sure of this.

Upon seeing the orangette's less than amused face, Grimmjow chortled mirthfully before swiping some napkins of the table. Ichigo didn't have time to move out of the way before the other male was rubbing at his cheek with the things, clearing his face of the offending food items that had been splattered across his normally flawless bronzed skin.

He squirmed almost immediately, trying to knock the other's hand away from his face but Grimmjow gripped his chin in his large hand, holding his face. Ichigo hadn't felt more ridiculous since he had been in high school and had been told when he had been invited to an American-style Halloween party that it was all the rage to dress up in a chicken suit.

Yeah, not so much.

Grimmjow was apparently enjoying his attempt to escape because the blunette grinned and chuckled as he continued to wipe away the ketchup and mustard that dotted Ichigo's face. The latter was just about to curse the other into submission when the door swung open, revealing a girl with long, burgundy pigtails and a face that would have been pretty had it not been screwed up in rage.

"Ichigo! Why aren't you waiting tables out there, damnit! I just sat a party of nine in your section, so stop screwing around!"

Riruka was really a much nicer person when she wasn't working, really. Not nice, but nic_er_.

"Gimme a second," Ichigo said as Grimmjow released his face after a brief second. "I have to change my shirt."

The hostess looked like she was about to yell some more, as she was wont to do, but she never got the chance as the blue-haired demigod that occupied the room spoke first, commanding her attention. Riruka's eyes immediately snapped to the man's face, which was sporting a broad smile at the moment that was positively dazzling. Seriously, try to look at it without feeling all dizzy and lightheaded. It's just not possible, especially if you're a female that literally drooled when she first saw him because she can't control herself around things she considers 'cute.'

"Actually, Ichigo's going ta go home early today. He sprained his ankle, so I'll be taking 'im home. That alright with you, cutie?"

For some reason, Ichigo felt his blood pressure rise and an ugly tendril of irritation curl around his insides when he heard Grimmjow call Riruka 'cutie.' The sex god truly had no shame in his game.

But it worked because Riruka's eyes widened and glazed over as she clasped her hands under her chin.

"Of course it's alright! You're such a sweetie, taking care of Ichigo," she giggled, the fingers of one hand covering her mouth while the others combed through her long hair. "Your girlfriend is very lucky."

Ichigo stuck his tongue out in a mock gag behind Grimmjow's back. Honestly, this whole display was just sickening. Absolutely disgusting.

"Actually at tha moment, I'm single." Ichigo watched as Grimmjow leaned against the wall, smirking down at the burgundy-haired girl. "But I think ya knew tha'."

Riruka tittered again, and Ichigo was seriously reconsidering his entire relationship with the girl, coworker and friend. Did she seriously think that was attractive? Grimmjow certainly wouldn't find it to be.

Would he?

"A girl can only hope," she giggled, looking up through long lashes to the sex god, batting the mascara-coated things as if she had gotten dust in her eye. The blunette just grinned at her, his whiter than white teeth and phosphorescent blue eyes making Riruka sway in place.

"Right, so I'll be takin' Ichi home then, but...I'll be back," he said the last part in a whisper so low, Ichigo almost couldn't hear it. But he did and it made him grind his teeth together audibly. Not that he _cared _of course that Grimmjow wanted to hit and quit it, move onto the next thing, which apparently was Riruka. No, in fact, this was a good thing because it meant that the sex god would finally stop bothering him.

"Okay, come back _soon_," Riruka said huskly, winking before spinning on her heel and flouncing out of the room, the door closing behind her in what she obviously thought was just an oh so smooth move. Ichigo rolled his eyes so hard it hurt, managing to suppress the urge to call out "whore!" among many other things after the hostess.

"Change yer shirt so we can get back to the KAL house," Grimmjow said suddenly, tossing Ichigo the clothes from his earlier from where he had put them in his locker. The orangette was silent as he did so, quickly, as he very pitifully was embarrassed by the idea of being shirtless around the blue-haired demigod, even though just a few days ago he had had the other's cock in his mouth.

"Why are we going there?" Ichigo asked a little suspiciously as his head appeared through the neck hole of his t-shirt. As soon as he did, he was greeted with the sight of Grimmjow in his underwear, pulling on his own shirt, and all of the blood in the new demigod's body shot straight to his groin.

Seriously, Grimmjow was perfection. Every last angle and plane and line of the man's body was just right. The muscles were never too much or too little, and he his chest looked to be completely hairless, except for when you looked very closely at his sternum, where some fine baby blue hairs were laying. His nipples were a dark pink, like the rain dampened petals of a Queen Elizabeth rose and his skin was the perfect color of tawny, not too light as if he never got outside and not dark enough to look like he was one of those tanorexics that were regularly featured on MTV.

It was the body of Ichigo's dreams, the one he would have created if he had been given the chance to design his ideal partner.

"Did ya hear anything I said?"

The orangette actually shook his head to snap himself out of the daze Grimmjow's body had put him into, the blunette's face swimming into his vision. The other's voice had sounded irritated, but those sapphire orbs were sparkling with entertainment, obviously having caught Ichigo staring. If the sheer humiliation at being caught didn't twist his tongue, Ichigo would have protested that he was just appreciating the gods' fine work on Grimmjow. It would have been rude not to do so.

"Tha's what I thought," the sex god said smugly, folding his arms as he was now fully dressed. Ichigo himself had only been able to change into his shirt as his ankle prevented him from putting on his jeans and he was certainly not going to ask Grimmjow to do it for him. "I said tha' I still need ta show you the do's and don't's of your true form. Plus-" If it was possible the man looked even more the cat who got the cream at that point, his smirk widening, "Ya left your camera in my room tha last time you were there."

Ichigo's heart stopped.

"Shit!" he hissed, his eyes falling closed and his head bowing forward to rest in his hands. His ankle throbbed painfully and he felt like he may just die right then and there.

"Ichigo?" Grimmjow's voice came from somewhere above him. "Is it your ankle?"

The orange-haired male shook his head pitifully, not even bothering to look up. He felt so utterly stupid in that moment; how could he have possibly forgotten?

"Forgot what?" Grimmjow questioned, making Ichigo realize he had spoken aloud. Making sure to mentally curse this time, he lifted his head out of his hand and surveyed the blunette. He still didn't completely trust the other, but...

"I work for the school paper. I gotta have cover story material, _with _pictures by...shit, _tomorrow_," he said dejectedly. He would never find anything worth publishing, at least to Rukia's standards, by noon the next day. Not with any pictures, at least. It was impossible.

Just as he was about to slump in his chair in utter depression, two strong arms encircled him, one around his back and one under his knees. He let out a decidedly unmasculine yelp as he was hoisted into the air, his feet, one completely bare and one still donning his roller skate, hanging in the air. Ichigo turned blazing hot chocolate eyes on the blunette that was carrying him as if he was a damsel in distress from an old storybook. Though he wouldn't deny that Grimmjow fit the picture of the handsome prince. Looks wise, that is. Personality wise, not so much.

"W-what are you doing?" he demanded, indignant. Grimmjow just rolled his eyes, walking out of the break room and into the crowded dining hall where all of the customers stared at them yet again. Ichigo felt his face flush a bright scarlet.

"Taking ya to see the oracle. He can help, little chit love to gossip."

...

"The _what_?"

* * *

><p>AN: Please do forgive me for taking so long with this chapter! I love you guys for sticking with me, though and for all the kind reviews on the last chapter. :D And a lot of you were asking from Grimm's POV, and I figured since this isn't like a professional novel or anything I could put it in here. There shall be more to come!

Also, if any of you like Harry Potter, I've just started a new story that's basically a GrimmIchi Harry Potter style, called _Epoximise_. I'm really rather excited about it. : )

Quote at the beginning is from the Disney classic _Hercules_. It was my absolute favorite as a young girl, and obviously kickstarted my love of Greek mythology.


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